Left Wanting
by Admiral Byzantium
Summary: Episode TAGs for Stargate Atlantis. What did we not see after each episode? What missions did we miss? And how did the characters change and grow... especially Elizabeth Weir and John Sheppard.
1. Moving Crew

**Current Update: **The second tag to "The Eye" has (finally) been uploaded. The third is forthcoming.

**Authors' Notes**: This is a series of Stargate Atlantis episode TAGs which are intended to explore the character development and events that must have happened but we didn't get to see. I won't continue this series through the entire Stargate Atlantis timeline - I will _definitely _end it prior to the introduction of the Pegasus replicators in Season 3. There may also be slight deviations from canon (partially because my SG-1 universe ends following Season 8 and does not include Seasons 9 and 10 - no Ori; partially because my SGA universe ends just after the beginning of Season 3). This universe is very Sheppard/Weir friendly.

**Moving Crew**

_TAG to Rising, Parts One and Two_

Major John Sheppard was still more or less in shock. Just a few weeks before he'd been the happy American soldier, serving his country by being a helicopter pilot near the bottom of the world. The only world he knew.

Now not only was he on a different world, but he was in a different _galaxy. _He had a gene which connected him to a race of aliens who had populated not only his galaxy, but most of the other galaxies that they were aware of, and allowed him to control alien technology. His government had known about this and had been fighting a war - a war other than the one in Afghanistan, where he had served prior to being transferred to the Antarctic - a war that threatened to eradicate every living thing on his world.

For him, however, the most important thing was that - for God only knew what reason - he had back something he had thought lost. He'd been exiled to Antarctica for disobeying direct orders and had lost the trust of his superiors. He didn't have much of a family, his closest friends in the military had been killed in combat - Antarctica had given him a great deal of peaceful solitude to contemplate the mess of his life. But now, here on Atlantis, he had won the trust of Doctor Elizabeth Weir. She _trusted _him. And he, in turn, trusted her. That was something he had thought he might never have again.

He had won the trust of Teyla as well, the leader of the Athosians who now lived as refugees in their newfound home. She was an impressive fighter, composed under pressure, ready and willing to do whatever was necessary.

He sighed and tossed the last of his luggage into the quarters that had been temporarily assigned to him. Digging into the first pack, he pulled out some of his clothes and stacked them neatly next to the Atlantian bed. Doctor Weir had told him to being preparing to put together his team. He sighed as he continued unpacking, pondering the question of his team.

He needed another soldier - someone he knew he could trust in a crisis and who would be able to read his mind when it became necessary. There were a number of people - other airmen - who were qualified. Most of them would be backup, or form a second team eventually, but for now he was focused on creating a single four-man team like those utilized by the SGC.

Ford. Ford would be perfect. He was capable, friendly and would get along with the other members of his team - people who would undoubtedly not be nearly as military, given the range of abilities from technological to interpersonal that he would require. And he was an officer, which meant putting him as next in line to command the team in case something happened to Sheppard himself - _God forbid -_ wasn't out of the question.

Who else? He needed someone who knew the territory - someone who was capable of talking to the people in the Pegasus galaxy on their own terms and who would be able to open doors that he otherwise wouldn't be able to open. The initial response by the Athosians to Colonel Sumner and himself demonstrated the need for someone who could be a negotiator very clearly. He sighed as he sat heavily on the bed, eyeing the large box that held various tapes of college and pro football games, including ones he'd seen and many he hadn't. Teyla. She trusted him already and, as leader of the Athosians, opened all the doors that he couldn't. And she was much more experienced than he in matters of diplomacy. He was a soldier, not a diplomat.

And while he was technically capable of using the Ancient technology due to his genetic propensity for it, he didn't have a _clue _about how any of it actually worked - not yet - or how to go about repairing it. He would definitely need someone who did. Ford was as clueless as he was - probably even more so. Teyla had already made it clear that much of the technology of the Ancients was on a level somewhat akin to magic, so she didn't provide those skills.

He grimaced. There was really only one option for the fourth member of his team - Doctor McKay. McKay could barely hold a weapon, let alone fire one, but he was more than capable to deal with any (and every) problem they might encounter with technology. It would be some time, though, before he would consider McKay truly field-capable, if ever. Probably not ever.

He looked up and over towards the door as someone knocked. "Come in," he called, sliding the last box up against the wall with his foot.

"Working out some latent frustration?" the warm, alto voice said from the doorway. He turned towards the door and met the smiling face of Doctor Elizabeth Weir.

"Nah, I've just always hated moving." Sheppard sighed and straightened up to face his boss. "Hello, Doctor Weir." He gestured towards the boxes. "I assume you're way ahead of me."

"Actually, I haven't even started to bring my stuff out of the gate room. I haven't had time just yet." She glanced over at him. "I was thinking of delegating some of my responsibilities off to my senior staff so I could actually get started on that."

"And your senior staff consists of..."

Weir's eyes grinned at him, even if her mouth stayed only slightly quirked. "You."

"Me. Of course." Sheppard couldn't help but start smiling back. "Anything I can do to help, ma'am."

Weir rolled her eyes. "Oh please, don't call me ma'am. If you have to use a title, call me Doctor. I do prefer Elizabeth, though."

Sheppard rolled his neck slightly, working out the cramps. "Doctor it is, then. For the time being." He gestured towards her. "You were delegating?"

Weir nodded. "Would you mind taking responsibility for finding rooms for everyone, including the Athosians? I know you're going to need to clear the parts of the station as safe before moving anyone into areas outside the command area, but it needs to be done and I don't have time to do it."

"Sure, I can do that. I'll start first thing tomorrow, break my men into small teams and start going through the city, level by level." Sheppard grimaced. "It could take weeks, probably more, but we can clear out the living quarters rather quickly, assuming we don't run into trouble." He glanced up. "Do you need any help moving your luggage?" He was moving towards the door before she could respond, and she moved out of the way, gesturing down the hall.

"I've never been one to turn down help when it's offered," she smiled. "Thank you."

Sheppard was quiet. "No, Doctor, I need to thank you. For bringing me along on this mission, despite the black marks on my record. For trusting me when no one else would."

Weir laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jack O'Neill thinks very highly of you."

Sheppard snorted. "I saved his life, so he's biased. General O'Neill had to practically browbeat me into even considering your offer." He glanced over at her. "Which I'm glad he did, by the way. And I'm glad you offered. Even if we are stuck on the far side of the universe, with no reinforcements pending, no way to get home, and a potential invasion of life-sucking vampires on our front doorstep."

"Well, when you put it like that..." Sheppard tossed her a wry grin to counter her half-scowl.

"Elizabeth!" Sheppard recognized the voice - and the heavy, pounding footsteps - of a jogging Rodney McKay without turning around. "Elizabeth, look at this!" In his hands he held several pieces of Ancient technology which Sheppard didn't recognize. It was probably yet another gizmo he'd pulled out of a closet somewhere.

He stepped in front of Elizabeth, placing himself in the line of fire. "We were headed to the gate room to begin unpacking," he interrupted, breaking McKay's train of thought and momentum. "Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, Doctor McKay, I have a proposition for you." The three of them fell into stride, McKay forcing his way between them and Weir and Sheppard parting to allow him space. McKay faced Sheppard and behind him, he could see a smile return to Weir's face, and he knew that she knew what he was about to ask. "Doctor, I'm putting together a team, like those used by Stargate Command, to be our primary exploration and negotiating unit. I need someone with your technological skills, and..."

McKay cut him off. "And since I'm the only one who _has _those skills here on Atlantis, you naturally thought about me." He glanced uncertainly between Sheppard and Weir. "There's so much to do here on Atlantis. Even something as relatively simple as this," he gestured to the equipment he carried, "could take weeks to unravel and put to use. The science teams need me."

"Ah, but Doctor McKay, if you're on the front line team, _you'll _get your hands on all the offworld toys _first, _before anyone else manages to. And, as you say, no one else has your skills, so we really _need _you out there." One thing Sheppard had already determined was that McKay's ego was both dangerous and useful.

"Well... I'll think about it." They trudged into the command center, the lighting dimmer than usual given the lateness of the hour, many refugees still situated throughout the room, huddled into groups of varying sizes. McKay broke away from them, headed for Peter Grodin, who waved to him as they came in. "Excuse me, Peter needs me," McKay said, then bounded up towards Grodin.

Sheppard and Weir continued walking, Weir leading him towards her bags. She leaned towards him as McKay sat down next to Grodin and they both started fiddling with the equipment. "I knew you would eventually have to ask him. Very smooth, Major."

Sheppard shot her a cocky grin. "All you have to do is know the man. And McKay is pretty easy to figure out. He'll say yes."

Weir laughed. "He has quite a personality, but he _is _a genius." She leaned down over one of the boxes on the floor. "Here we are." Sheppard leaned over and hefted one of the larger boxes up in his arms, then turned and laid into his civilian boss with a slightly incredulous but not unfriendly stare.

"What's in this one, your entire closet?"

For this first time since they'd met, Elizabeth Weir blushed. "Not the _whole _closet."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

About twenty minutes later, Sheppard and Weir had finished stacking her things in her room - the first room Sheppard had officially assigned in his new role as the city of Atlantis' retailer. It was one of the closer rooms to the gate room in the entire city - both for Elizabeth's own convenience and because it meant that he didn't have to carry her things very far that particular evening. Across from him, Elizabeth sat heavily on her bed. She looked up at him. "Thank you, very much, John."

Sheppard smiled wearily. "It's been a long day. Hell, it's been a long few weeks."

Weir shook her head in commiseration. "Tell me about it."

"Just a few weeks ago, I was serving in Antarctica, having been exiled after disobeying direct orders. I thought I would be there for a long time. And here I am, in another _galaxy_, fighting life-sucking aliens..."

" I'd completely forgotten that you lacked security clearance until that incident with the drone," Elizabeth stood and came close to him, resting her right hand on his right shoulder. "You've done well. You should be proud of what you've accomplished so far. And you'll do a fine job as leader of our military contingent. Of that I have absolutely no doubt."

Sheppard laughed. "Wait until we have our first disagreement before you say that. I've got issues with authority figures."

Weir grinned, tightening her grip on his shoulder. "I know that. That's one of the reasons I wanted you along. Your record bears some striking resemblances to that of another military officer, one who found his calling in the most unlikely place and went on to become a true hero."

"Oh?"

"Jack O'Neill. You remind me of him. That reassures me. He also has no compunction about disobeying orders to make sure he's doing the right thing." She winked at him. "I have no doubt we'll fight, John. Perhaps often. But that way, _both _of us will stay on our toes. And we'll both be better for it." She relinquished her grip on his shoulder and slid her hand down to push him back, out of her room. "Now, I'm going to get changed and get some sleep."

A mischievous glint appeared in Sheppard's eyes as he eyed her speculatively, and Weir suddenly knew that he was going to push all the boundaries. That was going to infuriate her at times, and reassure her at others, but right now it made her slightly apprehensive. "Can I stay?" he asked teasingly.

Weir couldn't help herself. She laughed. "Good night, Major." With one final step he was clear of her doorway and it closed, him on the outside, her on the inside. Then she turned back to face her room, a smile still across her face, her cheeks faintly blushed. "Flirt," she murmured.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Sheppard let his smile lapse as Weir closed her door, although his good mood remained intact. He glanced down at the wristwatch he still wore and, deciding it wasn't too late to pay another housecall, set off towards the housing area which had been tentatively assigned to military personnel.

He liked Elizabeth Weir. He couldn't help it. She was open and friendly, a career diplomat from what he understood, but she also had something about her that drew him to her. The best way he could describe it was just simple charisma. He would enjoy working with her and being her right hand for as long as the arrangement lasted.

There was also, he readily acknowledged, an underlying physical attraction which he didn't even bother to suppress. He filed it away under something he would admire from a distance, but knew he would never pursue a relationship with the woman who was effectively his boss - although, he noted absently, the fraternization regs didn't _officially _prohibit relationships between military personnel and their civilian commanders. Doctor Weir was effectively outside the military chain of command.

All of this was, however, a nice distraction, but again not something he intended to pursue. John Sheppard had been attracted to many women over the course of his life - even been married once, back before Afghanistan - but he shied away from serious relationships.

He shrugged mentally, and filed his musings away. He'd revisit these topics, he was sure - Elizabeth Weir was for too attractive for him _not _to take notice - but there were far more important things to worry about than his libido. Such as the reason he was headed towards military housing...

He stopped at the front of the hall, seeing a group of soldiers standing about and talking quietly. "Hey guys, have any of you seen Lieutenant Ford? I'd like to talk to him before he heads off to bed, if he hasn't already."

Sergeant Bates nodded at him. "I think he's awake, sir. Want me to go get him?"

"Nah, that won't be necessary. I'll go check myself." He grinned at Markham and nodded at Stackhouse. "Up bright and early tomorrow, fellas. We've got to search through as much of this city as possible and find housing for everyone before they all start getting antsy."

"At first light, Major," Bates responded. Next to him, Stackhouse suddenly yawned.

"Oh, Christ. First light? I better go get some sleep, then," he mumbled. Sheppard clapped him on the shoulder.

"You do that. I'll see you all in the morning." Sheppard nodded once more at Bates. Bates was one of Sumner's men - they all were Sumner's men - and he suspected that the Sergeant would be the most antagonistic one of his people. He knew better than to be accepted into the fold immediately and without question - with his record, and the questions about Sumner's death, he would have to prove himself to them quickly. He had no doubts in his abilities as a soldier - this would be a test of something altogether different. His leadership abilities. He'd led men before, in Afghanistan and elsewhere, but commander of Atlantis' military contingent was a position that demanded a rank above Major. Unfortunately, they didn't have someone higher than a Major. After him, they didn't even have a Captain. The next ranking officer was Lieutenant Ford.

Speaking of which...

Sheppard knocked lightly on the door which led to Ford's housing - at least his temporary housing. A soft "come in" echoed from the doors and Sheppard tapped the door control and it slid apart, allowing him entrance. Ford jumped to his feet. "Major Sheppard, sir."

Sheppard waved him off. "Please, Lieutenant, it's too late for the formal stuff." He glanced around the room quickly, eyes darting from the bed to the floor to the desk in the corner. "Home sweet home, eh Ford?"

"Yes, sir," Ford stretched out quickly, then sat back down on the side of his bed. "You need something, Major?"

"A little of this, a little of that..." Sheppard paused. "I'm putting together an off-world team. We'd be the diplomats, soldiers, engineers, whatever, whenever, wherever, Mr. and Mrs. Miscellaneous of the Pegasus galaxy going out to find what we need to continue to survive out here. I wanted to offer you a spot."

Ford grinned. "Atlantis' very own SG-1, sir?"

Sheppard had skimmed through the SGC's mission reports while he was making up his mind whether or not to accept Doctor's Weir's offer to join the Atlantis expedition. "Something like that."

"I'd be honored, sir."

"Oh, cut the 'sir,' Ford. Formalities are all well and good, but I need friends and people willing to take me down a peg or two when they think I'm wrong." He stopped, wondering if he was crossing a line, then bulldozed onwards. "Ford. I'm new to this whole aliens and other planets thing. Just a few weeks ago I'd never even heard of the Stargate, and my first trip through was this one, as you well know. I need someone who can show me the ropes - subtly, of course - while I get my bearings."

Ford grinned. "You've done a fine job already, sir." Ford paused. "So you want me to tell you how to be Jack O'Neill."

Sheppard grimaced. "Weir said I was like him. I barely even know the man, I met him only twice and only really spoke to him once, and he lectured me."

Ford slouched slightly as he contemplated Sheppard. "Well, there's not a whole lot you really need to know. Jack O'Neill isn't that complex," he said. "I think I can tell you what you need to know about Jack O'Neill with three quick points."

Sheppard leaned back against the wall. "Hit me."

"The third point: he believes in his mission completely. Everyone who served at the SGC looked to O'Neill and SG-1 as the emblem of our cause. We were out there to do nothing less than save humanity. Not only Earth's people, but all humans - and our cousins, like the Jaffa and even the Tok'ra - of our galaxy. And every one of us believed that."

Sheppard cocked his head. "Tok'ra?"

Ford laughed. "Wow, you really _are _out of the loop! I'll catch you up sir, don't you worry about that." Sheppard tossed him an uncertain half-frown, and Ford grinned. "The second point: he does the right thing. Whether the right thing is to go undercover to uncover a mole or..." Ford paused, then continued more quietly. "Colonel O'Neill once shot his second in command. Shot her twice. Killed her. She came back to life afterwards through some seriously twisted series of events, but at the time he hadn't known she would or could. She'd been compromised by an alien entity and was threatening the base. If Colonel Carter hadn't come back, I think it might have killed O'Neill. There have been rumors about their involvement for years, but nothing has ever come of them - and after that incident, people stopped talking about it so much. He had shot her, killed her, and afterwards he just sat at her bedside, looking like a man who had lost his heart. And though it tore him apart to pull that trigger, he did it anyway. Because it was the right thing to do. None of our people at the SGC questioned his impartiality after that."

Sheppard didn't respond verbally, just stayed leaning against the wall. Ford waited for him to respond, but when Sheppard didn't he continued. "But the most important thing, what became the SGC's unofficial motto: he never, _ever _leaves his people behind. No matter what it might cost to bring them home."

"I can do that," Sheppard replied quietly.

"You've done it already, sir."

"I'm not Jack O'Neill, Ford. I never will be."

"I know that, sir," Ford said. "But you are John Sheppard. And if John Sheppard is the same guy as the man who refused to leave Colonel Sumner and the Athosians behind... then I'm going to enjoy serving under your command. And so will the rest of the men. Sir."

Sheppard nodded slowly. "That... I think I _can _do."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Rodney McKay tore open his fourth energy bar of the night, carelessly tossing the wrapping alongside the disregarded garbage from his previous snacks. The first signs of light were trickling through the clouds and reflecting off the waves that surrounded the floating city.

He'd been awake since... well, since he'd come through the Stargate to Atlantis in the first place, hours... almost days... ago. His attention was focused on the small piece of technology in his hands - a deactivated, oval-shaped Ancient device about the size of his heart.

McKay and Grodin had gone through almost all of the computer programs they could access from the command center. About six feet on McKay's left, Grodin was hunched over his console, head down, sleeping quietly in a position that McKay was _sure _would result in an extremely uncomfortable back come morning. They'd found activation codes for the Stargate shield, the city's self-destruct, the city's shields, and had begun setting up subroutines that would permit them to rededicate the codes to the city's new staff and residents.

McKay chewed slowly, continuing to contemplate the device in his hands, his brain working considerably more slowly than it would have been otherwise. _I hope it's something really cool, like a self-sustaining fusion reactor, or the smallest nuclear bomb I've ever seen, or a remote control for an Ancient spaceship, or a mental link to the city's systems like that command chair back in Antarctica, or an invulnerability device! _He went to take another bite from his energy bar and stared down, distraught at the fact that the energy bar was gone. Reaching behind him, he rummaged through his pack for another bar.

Grodin stirred. "McKay?"

McKay tore open the wrapper. "Mmmhmm?"

"Have you slept?" Grodin's voice was groggy as he gripped the sides of his chair pulling himself upright. He groaned miserably and stood, bending his neck back to try to stretch it out.

"That's not going to work," McKay mumbled. "You've been sleeping in that position for hours."

Grodin sighed. "Did you discover anything else interesting last night?" McKay shrugged and tossed the device in his hands from one hand to the other, fumbling it slightly. "Did you do _anything_ after I fell asleep?"

"What did you expect, I would be able to concentrate all night long, despite not having slept in days?" McKay retorted.

"And whose fault is that?"

McKay dropped the wrapper and the final half of his energy bar. "I'm going to sleep. Remember while I'm gone to follow all proper and _careful_ scientific procedure. I'd hate to wake up in a few hours and find that you'd gone and blown up Atlantis."

"Go to bed, Rodney," Grodin said, his focus still on the control console, pointedly ignoring McKay.

McKay was already gone, pondering the device still held in his hand as he meandered down towards the rooms that were assigned for non-military personnel. Despite his fatigue, and the eventual lack of ability to concentrate, he had never been more excited in his life. For the first time he could remember, he was not only the smartest person in his working environment, but also _accepted _as the smartest person. He was _relied _upon. And though unlike the beautiful, indomitable, astrophysics virtuoso Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter he was not military, he knew that here on Atlantis, he was these people's first (and last) line of defense.

It was a little bit intimidating, but he was up for that and any other challenge that might come his way. These people were relying on him, and he would be _damned _if he ever let any of them down.

He might not be a professional pianist, like he'd wanted to be in his youth. But this was his second, better dream. He was ready to meet the challenges that would come. And none of them would be too much for one Doctor Rodney McKay.

In the meantime, however, he hadn't slept in at least two days, and it was _definitely _time to get some shuteye. He could save Atlantis - and the rest of the Pegasus galaxy - in the morning.


	2. Finding Courage

**Finding Courage**

_TAG to Hide and Seek_

In one hand, Carson Beckett held the last of Doctor McKay's test results, following his experience with the... half/pseudo ascended _thing _and the invulnerability device. The other was rhythmically tapping his desk as he perused them quickly, looking for any abnormalities. He didn't see anything, but he wanted to be absolutely _sure _before letting McKay out of his infirmary.

"Can I _go _yet?" McKay groused from the bed on the other side of the room.

Beckett sighed, rising to his feet and moving over to McKay's side. "Well, Rodney, everything appears to be normal, but I'd like it if you'd stop by a few times over the next few days so I can look for potential side effects to both the gene therapy and your encounter with the energy being." Beckett stopped, McKay oddly silent. "I'm sorry, Rodney," Beckett started.

"You? Sorry for what?" McKay cut him off, hopping off the bed. He landed heavily on two feet. He grabbed the bed with one hand and Beckett reached out to steady him.

"I should've warned you about the dangers of the gene therapy before you went about trying out Ancient technology. Who knows what the side effects could've been. You're very lucky that nothing more serious than your incident with the invulnerability device took place."

"Oh, please. Tell me this, Carson. Was the procedure scientifically tested rigorously and carefully back on Earth before we came?"

"Well, yes..."

"Ah!" McKay cut him off. "And were those tests repeated thoroughly until everyone except the ever-loving FDA was convinced that the procedure was safe to begin human trials?"

"Well..."

"And I volunteered for the procedure! If anyone should be feeling foolish, it's me, both for failing to consider all the implications of such a device and..." McKay's voiced faded out and Beckett eyed him somewhat challengingly... "Oh, and if I hadn't been so overly concerned about the possibility I might _die _then it might have been a far less anxious experience."

"Aye, but..."

"Stop it!" McKay started walking towards the exit. He stopped and spun back. Beckett eyed him uncertainly, McKay's stance still slightly tenuous. "What do you think that energy creature was anyway?" McKay asked, clearly looking for a diversion from Beckett's unnecessary and irrational guilt.

McKay was rewarded as Beckett was immediately distracted away from the questions of mistakes he might have (but didn't) make over the course of the day and changed his focus to the energy creature which had wreaked havoc on Atlantis, just days after they all had moved in.

What exactly it was wasn't a question McKay would normally ask nor try to answer - the questions of Ascension and related topics were generally somewhat outside his purview. But they were inside the doctor's.

McKay had hypothesized that the energy creature was the result of Ancient experimentation with Ascension - sort of a technological byproduct of a search to force a technological Ascension instead of the "normal" Ascension process which resulted from a combination of, according to Doctor Jackson's mission reports, "purity of being and soundness of mind," whatever _that_ meant.

"Well, the process of Ascension isn't one we fully understand, of course. Members of the Stargate program have witnessed it on a few occasions now, usually at the moment of death, although not exclusively so... Doctor Jackson believed Ascending naturally was something that could be achieved in a manner similar to that of achieving a deep state of meditation. Ascending through death is apparently a process that needs to be assisted by an already Ascended being."

At this point, McKay was beginning to regret having asked the question, but it was too late to stop Beckett now. "Perhaps the Atlantians were looking to bypass the need for meditation and force the transformation without the meditation requirement. It's impossible to say, I suppose, but it's interesting to note that Ascended beings appear to be comprised of light - bright, I dare say 'good' energy, while this... thing... appeared to be created of darkness, almost 'evil' energy. I wonder if that is what occurs when a being that lacks Doctor Jackson's 'purity of being' or 'soundness of mind,' when it undergoes the process of Ascension, but I have no standard to compare it against. Perhaps when we regain contact with the SGC I'll get a chance to ask him myself."

McKay snorted. "If. If we regain contact with the SGC."

Beckett glared at him. "Well now, you don't have to be so bloody dire!" He waved his hand impatiently. "You're fine, now get out of my infirmary, I'd rather spend time with my mice than someone who's forgotten the meaning of optimism!" Beckett eyed McKay speculatively. "You wouldn't happen to be feeling the urge to run on the wheel yet, would you? I could set up a makeshift treadmill to help you out some exercise... get you back in shape before you start heading out into the big bad galaxy with the Major and his team."

"Oh please, I'm in the finest shape of my life. Better than fine, now that I've got the ATA gene and can use all the Ancient technology that living on Atlantis requires." McKay headed for the door. "At least _I'm_ getting to go offworld!"

After he'd left, Beckett turned to feed his mice. "Please. As if I'd _want _to go put myself in danger's way at every turn. He'll be sick of it after one mission."

Beckett finished providing his mice with sufficient sustenance to easily last them the night, then returned to contemplating Ascension. As he'd told McKay, the process wasn't quite understood, although they did know two potential was to achieve it - mental discipline and assistance from an already Ascended being. McKay had postulated that they'd discovered proof that the Ancients had needed to technologically force evolutionary advancements to allow for the process of Ascension in any of their people. Beckett wasn't so sure - what they'd discovered resembled an Ascended being, but lacking the mental capabilities and reduced to nothing but base instincts for food and survival. It was almost certainly the result of technological research into forcing Ascension, but he would require far more proof to be convinced that what they'd discovered was essentially a precursor to the Ascended being that had been previously encountered by the men of the SGC.

Beckett sat down in his chair and wheeled it back towards his desk. Unfortunately, there was little he could do _but _speculate. The information McKay had gathered from the station's computer definitely indicated that Ascension was a major subject of research on Atlantis, but most of the memory database was not retrievable, so he had nothing more to go on but Daniel Jackson's notes and his own intuitions.

Giving up for the time being, Beckett filed away his speculations for later study. For now, given the success of McKay's experience with the ATA gene therapy, he had a lot of work to do. Many of the military personnel on the base had already requested to undergo the procedure, and while he wasn't willing to start performing it on everyone on the base - not just yet, given that he still wasn't sure what all the side effects could be - he needed to start getting prepared.

Besides, he'd just moved in a few days ago. He had a lot of work still left to do to get his infirmary up to Earth standards.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Sheppard slowed his footsteps as he neared the end of his daily run. One of the first things he'd done after clearing enough housing space for the Athosians and the Atlantis team was take Ford on a long run around the city to find a path that was both isolated and extended, and he'd started his daily regimen again as soon as it was possible.

He wasn't breathing that heavily - his normal run usually ran for another twenty to thirty minutes, but he'd started late and still had much work to do scouting the city. McKay and Grodin had spent most of the last day guiding him and Sergeant Bates through areas progressively farther away from the city core. Doctor Weir had named Sergeant Bates head of city security while he was overall head of the military contingent, allowing him to focus more on offworld issues while Bates took care of the city's primary defenses. Bates was a good man, but he was chronically paranoid - half due to his own personality, half due to the extensive responsibilities of his job.

He walked briskly through the halls past the recreation area and heard motion in one of the gym areas. Curious, he poked his head inside. Teyla was wearing her usual clothes, but in each had she held a stick of middling length and was going through what looked like some kind of training kata, waving the sticks around in a complicated series of maneuvers that were very reminiscent of several martial arts Sheppard knew. "Getting in your own daily exercise?"

Teyla turned slowly to face the door. She smiled as he entered with a skip and gestured to his disheveled appearance. "As are you, it seems."

"Yeah, well, you know how it is. You have to keep up the exercise every day or you go soft." He rolled his neck. "Not that going soft is a problem out here. But I transferred from Antarctica and you have no _idea _how hard it is to get a good run in. Treadmills just aren't the same."

"Tread... mills?" Teyla asked questioningly, cocking her head curiously.

"Oh... um..." Sheppard paused. "It's a machine that lets you run in place." Teyla's confusion abated somewhat, but she still eyed him uncertainly. Sheppard shrugged. "Antarctica is the bottom of the world we come from, covered in ice and snow and pretty much not good for anything except astronomical observation, Ancient outposts, and ice. You can't go outside for a jog, so you're stuck indoors most of the time." He grimaced. "And the daylight hours suck, it's either all light or all night."

"I see," Teyla said, clearly neither interested in nor comprehending Sheppard's babbling. Then she surprised him by tossing him one of the two sticks she held. He caught it just before it struck him and eyed her, one eyebrow slightly arched. "You are a warrior, but you rely entirely on your weapons to fight the Wraith."

"P90s," Sheppard responded automatically. Then he took on a slightly affronted look. "And I'll have you know I'm highly ranked in unarmed combat skills, although I," he waved the fighting stick, "don't have any experience with these."

Amused, Teyla dropped her fighting stick and took up a combat pose. Sheppard shrugged, straightened up slightly, and dropped his own stick, adopting a pose of his own. Sheppard _was _trained in unarmed combat, although he wasn't the best unarmed fighter the US armed forces had ever seen, and he was confident in his abilities.

Then Teyla moved and Sheppard found himself flat on his back less than three moves later, Teyla's arm at his throat. "Not fair," he managed so say despite the pressure on his trachea. She lessened the pressure and he collected some air. "I wasn't ready!"

Teyla rolled her eyes and returned to a standing position. Sheppard staggered to his feet and, less confident now that she'd beaten him once already, took up a slightly more conservative pose.

This time the exchange of blows lasted considerably longer and Sheppard got in some strong hits himself, his larger frame and musculature providing him an ample advantage. Teyla's lower center of gravity, and firm grasp of the concepts of how to position her body to best deal with Sheppard's innate advantages, eventually resulted in her sweeping his legs out from under him, sending him back to the mat.

"You are undoubtedly the better soldier, Major Sheppard," Telya said as Sheppard grunted on the floor. "But your training has been focused on use of your weaponry and how to best take advantage of situations. Given the circumstances you had previously been in, that was for the best. But now you have need to learn other skills to augment those you already possess."

"I see your point," Sheppard said, one knee still on the mat. His right hand reached out and found the fighting stick Teyla had thrown him. "With that in mind... you can show me how to use this thing..." he flipped it comfortably in his right hand, "and I'll show you how to best use a P90. I think you'd like the M60 too, they've got enough punch to take down even a dart with sustained rounds. You'll need to know how to use them all, and well, since you'll be on my team."

Teyla smiled widely. "I think that would be best for both of us."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Following a brief workout with Teyla, Major Sheppard nodded to the passing soldiers on his way towards Stargate Operations. Halfway down the hall he glimpsed Ford facing the opposite direction, discussing something with Bates. He reached out and grabbed Ford's arm as he passed by. "C'mere Ford," he said, smirking slightly as Ford had to catch up quickly, pulling off a hop-skip-and-jump maneuver to get even with his CO.

"Sir?" Ford asked. While Sheppard had spent most of the day busy working with Bates and Grodin to check out most of the remainder of the base, Ford had been working with Sergeant Markham, Sergeant Stackhouse, and Doctor Zelenka to test each one of Atlantis' jumpers to ensure that their systems wouldn't fail in the field. With Markham's ancient gene, he was ideal to test out the jumper's systems.

"What do you think about assigning Stackhouse to head up a second team? Not diplomatic or first-line-combat, but a recon unit? We'll find him a pilot with the ATA gene for piloting the jumpers and keeping their cloaks up and running, no issue there. I figure we'll all work together for the time being, but eventually we're going to need to specialize for certain missions. Can he handle it?"

Ford shrugged. "Yes, sir. Give him a good guide to help him from point A to point B and tell him what situations to avoid, he'll work out just fine in that role."

"Maybe Jinto's father - you know, Halling, the big Athosian - he owes us one. Maybe he'd be willing to help Stackhouse out and be his native guide." Sheppard frowned. He had a ton of assignments to figure out - one thing he thought for sure he'd never have was a command position such as this one. Now he had it and, for the time being, his primary job was to delegate. "Markham's the one with the Ancient gene, right? Who else has got it?"

"Well, hopefully Doctor Beckett will start gene therapy on the remainder of the men, but we can't count on that to happen right away. He's still not entirely confident that the procedure is safe and wants to keep an eye on McKay for a while before he performs the gene therapy on anyone else." Ford pursed his lips. "I don't think anyone else has it."

Sheppard grimaced. "So basically we have two pilots for the jumpers if we get into a touchy situation," he muttered. "Myself and Markham. Beckett had better get on that gene therapy, because we're going to need more pilots than that. As it stands right now, Beckett's going to find himself drafted in a clutch situation."

"God forbid," Ford said dryly. "Beckett isn't exactly a fan of the military or following orders."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. _But_... I hope it never gets that desperate. Beckett's talents are far better used in the infirmary." He paused suddenly, a pensive look on his face. "But... better him than McKay."

Ford laughed and tossed him a wide grin. "So, sir, when are we going to get out of the city?"

Sheppard laughed. "What, are you bored _already? _We've not even been here a week! We're in the lost city of _Atlantis._ Isn't that exotic enough for you?"

"I miss the adrenaline of combat. The SGC spoiled me." Ford grinned. "Besides, we need to do some scouting and recon. The Wraith are out there, Major, and they'll be coming sooner or later. I'd rather be ready if it turns out to be sooner."

"Agreed," Sheppard replied. "Along those lines, I've got an idea for what we should do for our first mission."

"Oh?" For asked, his smile returning. His eyes lit up, clearly excited at the prospect of getting back into the field.

"I've still got to run it by Weir, but I want to take the team back to the Wraith planet we visited that first day."

"Yeow! You're not messing around, sir!" Ford grinned. "It's pretty much the only place we have to start, I suppose. If we want information, that's the place to go."

"That's right. And we definitely want information." Sheppard and Ford meandered into Stargate Operations and Sheppard slapped Ford on the back. The younger Lieutenant tossed his CO a grin and headed off to chat with the other military personnel on duty while Sheppard stopped in the middle of the floor, looking up towards Doctor Weir's office. The room looked empty.

Next to him, Doctor Radek Zelenka stopped suddenly, glancing over at him. "Ah, Major. You're looking for Doctor Weir, yes?"

Sheppard didn't take his eyes off the office. "Something like that."

"She was just talking with Peter, but he left a few minutes ago. I didn't see Doctor Weir leave - I assume she's still up there. Maybe she's on the office balcony?"

"Maybe," Sheppard replied shortly. Behind him, Zelenka shrugged helplessly as Sheppard started up the stairs to the upper level.

Convincing Weir that the smart thing to do was to go _back_ to the Wraith planet would probably be difficult. Weir had been very reasonable when they'd been arguing how to proceed following Colonel Sumner's abduction - their argument had been reasonably short and relatively amicable, despite their varying viewpoints - and in the end he'd been right, it had been worth the risk.

But he couldn't deny that it _had _been a risk, a terrible risk, that would have seriously backfired on him if Ford hadn't disobeyed orders and come after him to help him out. Thankfully, Ford's instincts had bailed him out of an extremely bad situation - the young man continued to impress. Weir, however, would likely not be as keen as Sheppard to take those risks again. Who knew what the might run into on the far side of the wormhole - it was impossible to say. When they'd left, thousands of Wraith had been waking up from what appeared to be temporary stasis or hibernation pods - those Wraith would probably still be there when they returned, perhaps multiplying the risk they would take compared to their initial operation.

For all those logical arguments, there was still one argument which he believed trumped all the others - they _needed to know. _At least they had Teyla, but even Teyla had never fought all the Wraith at once, only dealt with small groups while the vast majority remained in hibernation. They had no idea how many there were out there, or how many Wraith ships were preparing to crusade out into the Pegasus galaxy, looking to bleed whole worlds dry. As long as their information remained as shoddy and out of date as it was currently, Sheppard had no way to plan any kind of defense against the Wraith short of putting himself, Stackhouse and Smith in jumpers and leading a Battle of Britain type aerial defense.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Sheppard slipped easily into Weir's office. She could hear his quiet footsteps from the balcony which stopped as he passed her desk, probably because he saw her through the open doorway. Her desk was uncluttered, no mess of papers or files or transfer requests - being separated from the military and civilian bureaucracies might cause certain supply problems, but it also greatly reduced required paperwork. Weir herself was facing away from him, leaning lightly over the side of her office balcony, facing the giant ocean that Atlantis floated upon. He walked up behind her quietly. "Hey," he said after he was reasonably sure she had heard his footsteps and was aware of his presence.

"Evening," she replied, still staring out across the ocean. She didn't do anything else to respond to Sheppard's approach, prompting him to pause in his footsteps.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently.

"Hm? Oh... yes. I'm fine." The truth was Weir wasn't fine, but her concerns weren't rooted in Atlantis or even anything remotely Earth-shattering. When she'd left on this expedition off to the deepest, most dangerous reaches of the galaxy, she'd left behind someone she cared about - her "significant other," Simon Wallace. And her dog, Sedgwick.

She'd barely been granted the right to send Simon the tape telling him she was leaving. Getting permission to tell him where she was going and why had been even more difficult, but she'd accomplished it. She hadn't had time to think about Simon since then, given all that had happened since their arrival on Atlantis and the constant, impending threat that was represented by the Wraith.

But now that she had a moment's peace, she was weighed down by guilt. Asking herself why she had done what she did was a rhetorical question and the answer she came back with was always the same. She had been given a chance to make a difference for the people of Earth, the people of two different galaxies, and potentially change the course of human history: both how it was already remembered, and how it would play out in the time that was to come. And so she had left, without even the chance to tell him goodbye in person.

She didn't know when, or even if, she would ever be able to return to Earth. She couldn't possibly expect him to wait for her - she had left him, after all, not the other way around. She was scared, though, that exactly that would happen, and she would return to Earth and find that Simon had moved on, found someone else, and left her behind. It wasn't fair to him, or even rational, to expect anything different. But it scared her nonetheless.

"Doctor Weir?" Sheppard was still standing behind her, hesitantly, waiting for her to begin conversation. The Major was a good man - both Colonel Sumner and General O'Neill had warned her that he had issues with following orders, though coming from Jack the warning had seemed somewhat tongue-in-cheek to her - and she liked him. She knew they would clash, but she was more firmly behind her initial conclusions about him. He was a good man. Supremely competent and amiable, he made a good leader for Atlantis' depleted military detachment. He was an incurable flirt, too, but she could play that game as well as he.

"Major," she finally answered. "What can I do for you?"

Sheppard eyed her uncertainly as she turned to face him. Her eyes were dry - she hadn't been crying - but she had been distracted by _something, _and he was clearly suspicious - and curious. But he recognized that now was not a good time to ask - and he probably also recognized that he did not know her well enough to ask. "I have a proposal for an initial mission plan," he said instead.

Weir smiled slightly, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Have you talked to Teyla about our options?"

Sheppard resisted the urge to grimace. She was really going to hate this proposal. "Well, yes, but..." His voice faded out as some of the sparkle returned to Weir's eyes and her lips quirked into the beginnings of a real smile. "What?" he asked, slightly exasperated, a smile crossing his own face in response to her own, utterly irrational one.

"You want to go back to the Wraith planet. All right, Major, you have a go. Be careful."

Sheppard stopped, his mouth hanging just slightly open. "Ah..."

Weir laughed lightly. "You're a military man, John. I'm the professional diplomat, for years it was my job to predict the actions of other people... and often times those people were military people not unlike yourself." She shrugged. "And your reasoning - that we need the information this mission offers, despite the potential risk - is sound. I can't argue with it. So you have a go. Although, I hope you'll wait at least until tomorrow."

Sheppard shook his head in bemusement. "You got me. I'll brief Ford, Teyla, and McKay in the morning, and take along Markham as the backup pilot and a few other men to back us up. Maybe just Stackhouse, six ought to be enough."

"In military matters, I defer to your expertise, Major. Whatever you think best. Although, I do hope you'll take sufficient backup and take every precaution. I'd really rather you _didn't _engage in combat. We've already woken the beast, I'd rather not tick it off any more than we already have." She hit him with a look that made it clear she was serious.

"You'll get no argument from me on that count. I'd rather not face them ever again if possible, but we both know that it isn't."

"Yes. Yes we do." She paused, turning back to look out over the balcony, and he took up a spot on the rail next to her, joining her in admiring the sedate oceans and the setting sun. "Were you impressed by McKay's performance today?"

Sheppard shrugged. "I knew he was a genius. I was really pleased to see him find it in himself to do what he had to to get rid of that... ghost... thing." He grimaced. "I'm not looking forward to teaching him how to fire a P90 or just a good old .45 cal or even a Beretta, but he's got to learn. I'll sic Ford on him so I don't have to teach him myself. Ford's not much for reticence about firearms or civilians, so he's probably the best option to prod McKay into getting off his ass and into the firing range."

Weir glanced sideways towards him. "Whatever you think best."

Sheppard stilled. "Are you okay? You seemed rather quiet when I came out here."

"I'm fine, John. Thanks for asking." She glanced at him, expecting a flirty comment like the one she had received from him after he had helped move her luggage from the gate room to her quarters, but received none. He was still, staring out over the ocean. In the slight pause, both of them were content to just watch the waves and luxuriate in the soft ocean breeze that swept in over the city.

He suddenly turned to face her. "Give me a day, maybe two, to finish training Teyla in our firearms and to start with McKay. I'd rather not wait any longer than that to recon the Wraith planet."

"All right."

Sheppard started to move away, back towards her office, and she followed slowly behind him. He proceeded on past her desk as she sat in her chair. When he reached the door, he turned back towards her. "G'night, Doctor."

She glanced upwards and gifted him with a smile. "Good night, John. I'll see you in the morning."

Sheppard winked. "Hopefully the Athosian children will stay in their beds tonight. I dunno if I'm up for another game of Sheppard versus the Wraith."

Weir laughed. "Go!"


	3. Pressing Concerns

**Pressing Concerns**

_Tag to Thirty Eight Minutes, Pre-Ep to Suspicion_

"So tell me, Teyla, where exactly are we headed again?" Major John Sheppard sat behind the main pilot controls of the newly designated Jumper One, replacing the damaged jumper which had very nearly gotten them all killed just a week before.

Hopefully this, his team's third mission since Doctor Weir had authorized diplomatic, reconnaissance, and military missions to begin heading out through the Stargate, would be somewhat more productive than the first two. The first mission, of course, had ended with Sheppard dying on the floor of the aforementioned original Jumper One, then thrown hastily into stasis in the Stargate before being revived by a very relieved Doctor Beckett on the other end of the ride.

McKay, Ford, and Teyla had all been equally relieved to see him well, and he recalled all too well the relief that flooded through Doctor Weir's eyes when she realized he would make a full recovery.

The morning after all the hoopla, Sheppard had woken up - hungry again - and heard the soft voices of Beckett and Weir on the other side of the infirmary.

_"He'll be fine, right Carson?" Weir's voice held the same level of controlled concern that he remembered from their other near-death experiences they'd experienced in their first week in the Pegasus galaxy. _

_"Aye, I don't see why not. They got that damned leech off him just in time - I've never seen anything like the damage it did. It was literally sucking the life right out of him not unlike a Wraith, stealing from the Major to regenerate itself, even through all the damage Lieutenant Ford did to it. I wish we hadn't lost its remains when they depressurized the jumper, but all in all I'd say it was a fair trade." _

_"Is he going to be awake any time soon?"_

_"He should be up shortly, I'd say. He was craving sleep and nutrition, everything it might need to recover from that kind of drain on his body's resources. Luckily, while the creature clearly had some kind of physiological or evolutionary connection to the Wraith, it didn't work in exactly the same way - there's no premature aging like the Major reported with Colonel Sumner or the Athosians reported from their own encounters. He's just hungry and tired, nothing that some food and rest won't fix. He should be up and about in a few days."_

_"I'll be up and about even sooner if you provide me with some of that food, Doc," Sheppard called weakly from his infirmary bed. Struggling to sit upright, he scrunched his back up against the pillows at the head of the bed to help. By the time Beckett and Weir came through the curtains to his bedside, he was up on his elbows, able to look them both in the face._

_"Aye, don't be so damned stubborn, Major! Don't waste your energy, you need your rest."_

_"What I need right now is food. I'm starving," Sheppard replied, somewhat sarcastically. Beckett muttered under his breath, headed back in the other direction to help provide what Sheppard needed while Sheppard tilted his head towards Weir._

_"Good morning, Doctor. How might you be today?"_

_Weir smiled despite herself. "I'm fine, John. But then, all I had to deal with yesterday was a group of scientists with egos to match McKay's but without the accompanying brilliance and a contingent of Athosians more concerned with preparing Teyla's death rites than preserving her life." She shrugged at him, her eyes sparkling to match her slightly mischievous tone. "On the other hand, you were stuck in a jumper - stuck being the operative word - with a life-sucking leech attached to your neck, and to get it off poor Lieutenant Ford had to kill you! So you died, and then Carson brought you back." She stopped, and reached out to pat his knee gently. "I'm glad you're okay."_

_"Believe me, I am too," Sheppard smiled back. "So, Doc, got any ideas for our next mission?" _

_Weir shook her head, mock reprovingly. "Get some rest, John. I'll send Teyla in here in a few hours and you two can discuss potential mission plans for after you've recovered. In the meantime, Sergeant Stackhouse has been scouting out nearby systems for any signs of Wraith activity. So far, he has nothing of strategic importance to report."_

_"That's good."_

_Beckett returned then, with a tray which held what looked alarmingly like hospital food - one would think that this far from Earth hospitals one might be able to avoid their more aggravating features, like hospital gowns and hospital food - but apparently both of those were present even in the Pegasus galaxy. "Here you go, Major. Eat and then sleep. You can get back to work in a few days."_

_Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Please, you know the chance of it taking that long is somewhere between a snowball surviving a prison term in Hell and McKay volunteering to lead a tactical assault on the Wraith homeworld with nothing but a hunting knife and a hockey puck." At Weir and Beckett's skeptical looks, Sheppard sighed, exasperated. "He's Canadian!"_

_"Eat, Major. Doctor's orders," Weir's voice commanded. Sheppard sighed again._

_"Whatever you say, Doctor. Doctor." Sheppard directed his reply to Weir and Beckett in turn._

Teyla had indeed come by the infirmary later that day, as Weir promised she would, and the two of them had spent several hours going through potential mission plans. Ford had joined them as well - he came to visit in the early evening, after he got off duty, and ended up spending most of his evening with them. Eventually, they came up with fifteen potential mission plans - several of which they assigned to Stackhouse's team, but most of which they decided to keep for themselves because of the potential for Wraith encounters.

The first of those missions ended almost before it began. They took the jumper to a planet Teyla called "Elaniya" under stealth, expecting to find a small agrarian community of maybe a few thousand in the immediate vicinity of the Stargate - the population of the world, Teyla said, was relatively small, but large enough that it would likely be a Wraith target. There were also, she had said, some rumors of an ancient stronghold that had once been used to protect the community from the Wraith. Hoping to find both potential friends and warn innocents about the impending Wraith cullings, as well as the possibility a ZPM might be present (which had especially excited McKay during the mission briefing), it had seemed a perfect target for them to begin their missions.

When the jumper had come through the gate, it was immediately clear that this mission would not go as planned. The village was completely depopulated, most of the people had been taken away on the Wraith darts via their impressive transportation technology - although there were still enough bodies on the ground to make an impression. They had spent maybe an hour searching the planet for survivors, but quickly decided that there was nothing they could do.

This, then, was the second mission Teyla, Ford, and he had planned while he was laid out in bed (with some kindly help from Beckett, who by the end of the second day wanted nothing more than to get Sheppard out of his infirmary). "I know the people of this world - I have traded with them in the past. I do not believe we will find any of the technology of the Ancestors here, as we might have on Elaniya, but they are fine and good people with many medicines and minerals they might be willing to trade. Atlantis will not survive on the supplies you brought from your galaxy for long, and my people brought very little with them when we abandoned Athos."

"Yeah. I hope this goes better than the last one," Sheppard replied as he carefully brought the jumper up and over the thick tree-line that blanketed the area around the Stargate. "So. Which way?"

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

With Teyla's advice, Sheppard landed the jumper in a small clearing a short distance from the village she was familiar with. It, like most everything Sheppard could see flying over the landscape, was covered in trees. In the distance he recognized a series of large hills which quickly turned into mountains, terrain that he was glad he wouldn't have to fly through. In anything except a jumper, he would have called it impossible - in a jumper, it was technically possible, but certainly not something he wanted to attempt if at all avoidable.

Teyla and Ford hopped out of the jumper. Sheppard turned back to the last two members of his six person team. "Markham, you stay here with the jumper. I'm not anticipating trouble, but I'd like a pilot here as backup if necessary." Sheppard pointed at the other military man, sitting near Markham. "Sergeant Yamato, you stay here and make sure nothing happens to Markham." Markham took on an amused, slightly affronted look while Yamato grinned.

"You got it, sir."

Sheppard nodded to his team. "Teyla, Ford... McKay... with me."

McKay rolled his eyes. "Why am I coming along on this mission, again? There's no technology here to find, my skills are completely useless."

"Because you're a part of my _team, _that's why. Now stop complaining, grab your gun, and let's go!" The aggrieved scientist fumbled with the 9mm Ford had given him rudimentary lessons in. "And make sure you don't take the safety off, I'd hate to have you making a mess."

"I don't know how to take the safety off!"

Sheppard turned to Teyla, ignoring McKay's protests. "Lead on."

Teyla took a second to acquaint herself with their surroundings. Sheppard shifted his weight glancing between his team members. McKay's expression continued to be one of reluctance. "This way," she finally said, and set off into the forest.

Sheppard shrugged. "You heard the lady. _That _way."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Teyla led them through the forest for about ten minutes, Sheppard following with Ford and McKay taking up position in the rear. From behind, Ford suddenly stopped. "Hey, I see smoke," he commented, gesturing up above the treeline when Sheppard turned back in response.

"We are close," Teyla said. "We should encounter the villagers any time now."

"So, Teyla, what should we call these people when we find them?" McKay asked.

"Friends, I hope," Sheppard commented.

"They call themselves the Handraii," Teyla said, ignoring the banter. "I have known them for many years, and they have had a trading relationship with the Athosians for generations, through many cullings."

"How have they managed to survive for so many years?" Ford asked, trudging beside her.

"The Wraith do not kill everyone, or, they had not until this latest series of cullings. That would quickly deplete their food supply. And the Handraii have been very effective in hiding from the Wraith." Teyla pointed up to the mountains in the distance. "Those hills have made fine hiding places through previous cullings."

McKay looked up. "There are probably mineral deposits in the hills that interfere with Wraith sensors, hiding their lifesigns."

"As you say, Doctor McKay. Regardless of why, those hills have served the Handraii well for many generations and should continue to serve them still."

"And they will!" The voice came spontaneously from the trees and Ford's P90 snapped up instinctively to cover the potential new threat. Sheppard's hand immediately found the barrel of the automatic weapon, a subtle restraint.

"Jorus, my friend!" Teyla exclaimed. Ford lowered his weapon and the three Earthers watched as Teyla embraced the newcomer, an older man - late 50s - with greying hair and a worn face. "I am glad to see you well."

"And I you, Teyla." Jorus gestured towards her companions. "You have made some new friends since we last met, I see."

"Yes, I have," Teyla smiled. "This is Major John Sheppard, and the other two members of his team, Lieutenant Aiden Ford and Doctor Rodney McKay." Sheppard nodded his acknowledgment while Ford gave a halfhearted smile and McKay fidgeted.

"The other members of his team? You have joined them?"

"I have, and proudly so. Major Sheppard and Lieutenant Ford rescued me from the Wraith before they could feed on me not long ago, and saved many of my people." Teyla's face grew serious. "We must talk, Jorus. The Wraith have awakened once more, and I fear the impending culling will be far more devastating than any since the departure of our Ancestors."

"That is dire news indeed," Jorus said. "Come. You can tell me what you know in the village. If what you say is true, we should prepare to move back into the hillside before the Wraith return. We have stockpiled enough food to survive for some time on the less fertile land in the mountains."

"That would be wise, my friend."

Jorus smiled. "Come, friends of Teyla. Let me show you our village."

Sheppard gestured to Ford and McKay. "We're off to see the village, gentlemen. Shall we?"

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

John Sheppard _liked _these folks. The village was small, only a few hundred residents, but there were apparently other villages scattered throughout the forest, congregated around areas of arable land. Whenever they could, the villagers lived in the valley closer to the Stargate, growing food and stockpiling most of it in caches scattered throughout the hillside, so that when the Wraith came they would be able to quickly flee into the relative safety of the mountains.

They had recently finished their harvest and so were ready to run if it should become necessary - and with Teyla's warning, as well as news of what had become of the Elaniyans - Jorus and the other village elders were discussing an immediate immigration from the valley back to the hillside until after the Wraith had come and gone. Jorus said they had enough food stockpiled to last them an extremely long time - this cycle was one his people had been practicing for generations.

Ford was sitting so that he could keep an eye on McKay, who was animatedly discussing the various methods used by the villagers to keep their food supplies fresh for the long periods they could. In his hand he held a native drink - Sheppard had one too. Neither was drinking any more than small sips - it tasted alarmingly alcoholic - but everyone else in the village was imbibing the liquid with seemingly no loss in judgment or motor reflexes, so Sheppard was willing to indulge to help him fit in somewhat better. His BDU, complete with the bulky kevlar vest, made him stand out among the villagers, and he felt it important to try to fit in however he could.

His radio squawked at him and he clicked the talk button and spoke into the mic attached to the headset behind his left ear. "Sheppard."

"Sir, this is Yamato. The gate just activated."

"_What?_" Sheppard stood suddenly, glancing about for Teyla, but she was inside the hut with the elders. "Has anything come through?"

"Not yet, sir. Markham has activated the cloak so we should be safe, but if it's the Wraith chances are..."

"I know, I know..." Sheppard cursed silently. Ford, Teyla and he were carrying P90s - extremely effective weapons against Wraith ground troops, but not particularly good at taking down aircraft (or spacecraft) like Wraith darts. "What kind of ordinance have we got in the jumper in case we've got incoming darts, Sergeant?"

"We've got three M60s, sir, and a pair of AT4s and rockets to go with them. Do you have anything at your position?"

"Just our P90s. Nothing to speak of that will help take down darts. Anything come through the gate yet?"

"Nothing... wait. _Shit. _Two Wraith darts, sir." There was a pause. "Make that three. The gate's closed down, we've got three darts. Doesn't look like we have any ground troops yet, but who knows if that'll last."

Sheppard thought fast. "All right, Sergeant, here's what I want you to do. Once you know you're clear, you and Markham take whatever C4 and claymores you've got and mine the entrance to the Stargate. When the Wraith come through, I want you to blow them up. Tell Markham to use one of the jumper's drones if he has to! We can't afford to be fighting ground troops and the darts simultaneously this far from the Stargate and with so many civilians on the ground. If nothing comes through in the next five minutes, set them all to proximity and get that jumper over here under stealth. We need that heavy ordinance."

"Acknowledged. We'll be in contact. Yamato out."

Sheppard jumped to his feet. "Ford!"he yelled. "Start getting the people together! McKay, you stick near Ford. I'm going to go get Teyla and the elders!"

Ford nodded, understanding immediately what must have occurred, ignoring McKay's sudden protests as he began to rally the villagers that were nearby. Sheppard bounded into the elder's building, ignoring the guards at the doors.

The elders - three men and a woman, stood and faced the intrusion. Jorus' face was one of confusion, and Teyla's face fell when she recognized Sheppard's expression. "I'm sorry to barge in like this, but the Wraith just came through the gate. Three of their darts. I have my people preparing a defense at the Stargate in case more come through, but I don't have anything here that could help us take down one of those flying machines. We need to get your people out of here and under cover _now._" Mentally, Sheppard was berating himself. He should have known better than to leave all his heavier weaponry on the jumper, but it was too late for that now. He'd just have to not make that mistake the next time.

Teyla grabbed Jorus' elbow. "We must go, Jorus. We must go _now_."

"I agree," Jorus replied. "Thank you for the warning, Major Sheppard. If it is just the Wraith's flying machines, we can achieve relative safety in the forest, the trees are too thick for them to descend upon my people, but we must hurry."

"I'll provide whatever cover I can. Ford, Teyla and I can draw them away with our weapons even if we can't destroy them."

"I would be most grateful. Let us hurry." Jorus practically flew out of the tent, followed by his fellow elders, and Sheppard and Teyla shared a grim look.

"It is a good thing we were here to warn these people. Without us, they would likely have no defense against the impending attack," Teyla commented.

"Yeah. Right," Sheppard responded. Part of him was at least a little concerned that perhaps it wasn't the natives the Wraith were after, but that was a worry he could save for after everyone was safe. "C'mon, let's go." Both of them hurried out of the tent, looking upwards as a Wraith ship screamed overhead. "Take cover!" The Wraith ship's teleport field flashed down over the village, stealing away two of the civilians. Sheppard turned as he heard a consistent stutter from an automatic weapon, Ford standing on the far side, flush against one of the buildings, his P90 flashing up in futility against the Wraith.

Sheppard glanced around, seeing Jorus marshalling his people and Ford continuing to fire. He triggered his radio. "Ford, take McKay and try to draw the darts away from the villagers back towards the jumper landing site. Hopefully Markham and Yamato will be on their way with the bigger guns any minute now."

Ford glanced at him across the square, then Sheppard watched as he grabbed McKay with both hands and heaved him up, bringing them both to their feet. Another Wraith Dart screamed overhead but banked away from the prisoners as Ford and Sheppard both laid into it with small arms fire. "Right, sir. Good luck."

Sheppard ran over to Jorus. "Jorus, after we go, you should bury your Stargate so that the Wraith can no longer get through with their darts. They may decide coming here with ships is too big of a hassle for a planet with such a relatively small population, and if you hide in the hills that will make it even more difficult."

Jorus nodded his appreciation. "Thank you for your assistance, Major. We owe you a debt."

Sheppard shook his head, waving off the thanks. "No time for that. Get your people to safety. We'll do whatever we can."

Jorus looked like he was about to say something, but Sheppard turned away suddenly as his radio crackled again, his hand flying to hold his headset against his ear so he could hear more clearly. "Major, this is Yamato. The Wraith just came through the gate on foot. We blew the explosives and took care of them immediately after they came through - Markham used one of the jumper's drones to make sure. The gate has shut down and I don't believe any more Wraith are coming through." When Sheppard turned back to Jorus, the older man was gone into the distance, ushering his people into the trees.

"Good!" Sheppard yelled, finding cover and firing his P90 in the air to decoy the darts away from the civilians. "Ford and McKay are on their way to you! Stay hidden, but if you get a chance to take out one of the darts on your way to pick them up, take it!" Aside him, Teyla suddenly appeared, removing an ammo cartridge from her P90 and slapping another in place. "Teyla and I are still at the village! The rest of the villagers have made it into the forest, but the darts are still coming back for us! We need you to hurry!"

In front of Sheppard and Teyla, one of the village houses suddenly burst into flame. "The darts have stopped trying to capture people and have started shooting to kill." Teyla said into her radio. "They must have realized that the villagers have escaped."

"Guess that's my one good deed for the day," Sheppard muttered. "Hurry, Yamato!" he hollered into the radio. He grabbed Teyla's arm. "We need to find cover!"

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Ford and McKay dashed through the trees, the far less nimble McKay slowing the younger military man down somewhat. The darts continued to fly overhead, but with the thick forest providing protection for the Atlantis contingent they couldn't find their targets. "Where's Markham?" Ford whispered.

"How the hell should I know?" retorted McKay. His face fell as he heard the obvious sound of an incoming Wraith Dart, and his head snapped up towards the sky. "Where is it!" he exclaimed.

Ford grabbed him and threw him down into the bushes, then pointed his P90 in the direction of the sound. With his first glimpse of the fighter he pulled the trigger, emptying a clip in the direction of the hostile craft, the automatic weapon steadily kicking back into his body as a result of the recoil.

The Dart slowed as it passed overhead, focusing in on Ford's position. The P90 stopped firing as the clip emptied and Ford quickly tossed it aside, pulling out his service pistol and firing it up towards the seemingly undamaged craft. Behind him, he felt and heard McKay stand up, two paces back, and begin firing shots up towards the Dart alongside him. As the Dart closed on their location, the only thing Ford could think was, _all those hours we spent practicing, and it's only now that he finally figures out how to turn off the safety!_

The Dart fired two shots that skimmed above the trees over their head, then the ship exploded. Ford and McKay both suddenly stopped firing and turned to each other in astonishment which quickly turned to relief as their radios kicked in. "Ford this is Markham, are you and Doctor McKay all right?" The jumper came into view, hovering above them, clearly having taken damage.

"We're fine, thank you Sergeant." Ford laughed, slightly hysterical, as the jumper wobbled overhead before setting down right in front of them, the after compartment opening. They both dashed inside.

Sergeant Yamato was lying on his back, clearly concussed. "We took a hit from that Dart before we knocked it out. Our cloak and our weapons are both functional, but our engines are in trouble and I don't think we can take a shot at another Dart from below the treeline," Markham said.

"Put the invisibility shield back up," Ford ordered. He turned to McKay. "Go get the engines working again!"

"What if I can't?"

"Then we'll all die here when the Wraith come back!"

"Oh sure, put all the pressure on me!" McKay screamed back.

Ford ignored him, grabbing an M60 heavy machine gun and strapping it to his back while hefting one of the rocket launchers into his arms. "Markham, if he gets overly annoying, shoot him." Then, ignoring McKay's weak protests, he exited the jumper again. "Major, what's your status?"

Sheppard's voice was hassled and the background was punctured with the sounds of explosions and automatic weapons fire. "Alive!"

"I'm on my way with the heavier weaponry, sir, try to stay that way until I get there! Markham took out one of the darts with the jumper, but he took a hit in exchange. McKay is working on the problem," Ford replied, running as fast as he could while carrying two heavy weapons.

"We'll be here when you get here!"

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

"I hope," Sheppard finished to Teyla. They were dodging through what was left of the village, the two remaining darts still making passes overhead. They stopped behind what was left of the elder's building, its stone foundation providing better cover than the primarily wood buildings that comprised the majority of the village, most of which were now aflame. "At least we managed to save most of the Handraii."

"We saved many lives today," Teyla responded. "This is a good thing."

"Yeah, well, hopefully we can still save our own," Sheppard replied, In the relative silence between passes by the darts, he sighed and let his P90 drop into his right hand, taking a second to rest. "Are these guys going to be everywhere we go, around every corner?"

"I cannot say. I have never experienced a culling in which so many Wraith were awake at once. There may be nowhere in this galaxy that will be safe from the threat they represent."

"Great," Sheppard muttered. He stopped, hearing the sound of a Dart on its way back for another pass. "Quiet," he whispered. "Here they come again." The Dart got louder as it got closer, and as it passed overhead he stretched out on the ground, looking for the best firing angle upwards towards the Dart. Teyla took a knee, When it came into view, they both began firing once more, riddling the Dart with as much ammunition as possible, although Sheppard was well aware that the relatively light rounds from a P90 were probably not doing any damage other than the cosmetic variety to the spaceworthy hull of the Dart.

A third sound kicked in, a heavier, more staccato addition that Sheppard recognized immediately as an M60. He rolled up to a crouching position and watched as a steady stream of ammunition chewed into the hull of the Dart. Flames appeared from the ship's hull and it slammed down into the ground, flame spewing up into the sky a short distance from the village's edge. "Nice," Sheppard commented. "That's two. One left."

"Are you all right?" Teyla asked. Sheppard shrugged. "I'm all here. That must've been Ford, let's find him." They stood, crouching as they moved through the remains of the village. On the outskirts, Ford joined them. He'd abandoned his M60, the heavier weapon preventing him from moving quickly. Sheppard quickly strapped his P90 against his side and took the rocket launcher from Ford, checking the single round inside to make sure it was prepped.

"Let's go, sir. I hope McKay has gotten the jumper working again by now," Ford said, gesturing back in the way he came.

"Yeah, let's hope," Sheppard replied. They started moving back towards the jumper, Ford lead, stopping only to retrieve his discarded M60 and load a second clip. Teyla continued to stare upwards towards the sky.

"The last Dart is on its way back," she murmured. Sheppard and Ford stopped and, sure enough, the distinct sound of a Wraith Dart hummed in the distance. They took up firing positions, Sheppard trying to find a clear path to fire his launcher through the thick trees while Ford and Teyla huddled in defensible positions.

When the Dart came into view, they both opened fire as Sheppard waited for a shot. He didn't take his eyes off his target, even when Markham's voice appeared in his ear. "Engaging enemy," Markham said through the radio, and behind the Dart the jumper dropped its invisibility shield and a drone, the powerful Ancient warhead, screamed out of the jumper's weapons port. Sheppard took the opportunity to launch his rocket, the slower (but still effective) Earth-made ordinance riding a tail of fire up towards the Dart.

The rocket hit first, accompanied by a hail of weapons fire from Ford's machine gun. The Dart tumbled in the sky, out of control, and then was struck by the drone. The explosion was enough to force Sheppard to shield his eyes.

Sheppard dropped the rocket launcher, bending over to get some air. "Markham, this is Sheppard. Thank you," he breathed.

The voice that came back wasn't Markham's. "You're welcome, Major," said the satisfied voice of Rodney McKay. "I do believe I fixed the engines."

Sheppard grinned despite himself. "We owe you one, McKay."

"Actually," McKay responded, smug, "this makes two."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

The weary, bedraggled members of Sheppard's mission team dragged themselves from the aft compartment. Markham and Ford each had an arm supporting the concussed Yamato, who was conscious, but clearly not feeling too well as a result of the hard knock to the head he took when the jumper was hit by the Dart's weapons.

Sheppard waved to one of the three members of their greeting team, Doctor Beckett. "Here's your patient, Doc. He's got a serious concussion, but I don't think he's got any problems other than that." Beckett took the time to nod quickly, then hastened to get to Yamato. Sheppard waved at Markham. "Markham, you help Beckett take Yamato down to the infirmary." He glanced over at Sergeant Bates and Doctor Weir, the other two members of their welcoming committee. Weir was glancing over the hull of the jumper, clearly disturbed by the weapons damage that the jumper had sustained.

Sergeant Bates' face was hard, and he seemed absurdly focused on Teyla with an expression that didn't even try to disguise his distrust. For her part, Teyla was trying not to respond to Bates' non-verbal challenge, but she was disquieted and took up a position half a pace behind Sheppard.

"It looks like you encountered the Wraith again, Major," Weir commented as Sheppard stepped up to face her.

"Again," Sheppard agreed. "Yeah. We did."

Weir glanced sideways at Bates. "Let's go debrief, John."

Sheppard paused a second to glance at the other members of his team before he realized that Weir meant him alone, without Teyla, McKay, and Ford. He shrugged and turned to them. "You're relieved. Go get some sleep," he commented. He grimaced at Ford. "And you, go get a shower. You stink."

Ford laughed. "Back at you, sir." He then took a happy skip towards the jumper bay exit, dropping his P90 off at the armory. Teyla followed, unstrapping her weapons and laying them next to Ford's. McKay followed behind at a more sedate pace, taking a few seconds to glance over Bates, Weir, and Sheppard.

"McKay," Sheppard called when he reached halfway to the door. "Thank you. Again."

McKay smiled genuinely. "You too, Sheppard."

Sheppard scowled at him. "And I wasn't going to say anything, but you need a shower too. Skedaddle." Then he turned to Weir and Bates. "So, for that matter, do I. So let's take care of this quickly, shall we?"

Weir decided to forego the small-talk. "Sergeant Bates is concerned that you've taken your team on three missions and have encountered the Wraith all three times," she started. "Given the size of the Pegasus galaxy, that seems like a large coincidence."

Beside her, Bates nodded. "We have to consider the possibility that we have an information leak."

Sheppard split his glances between them, hitting them both with equal incredulity. "You think we have a _spy?_ Are you serious?"

"Very serious, Major," replied Bates. His face matched his words.

Sheppard paused, giving them both his "you have _got _to be kidding me" look. "All right. First, you seem overly concerned when you consider that our first mission we went out of our way to _intentionally _go back to a Wraith controlled planet for the express purpose of learning as much as we could about the bastards. Secondly, we _didn't _encounter the Wraith on our second mission, Sergeant, they got there before we did and they were long gone by the time we got there! And, finally, if we _had _been sold out to the Wraith, I think they would have sent a few more men than the three darts and handful of soldiers they actually _did _send, because we kicked their asses up one side and down the other today."

Bates grew irritated in the face of Sheppard's tirade. "Major, what if the Wraith showed up today _because _you were there?"

Sheppard cut him off. It was something he had considered earlier, but at the moment he wasn't feeling particularly conciliatory. "Bates, I see your point. It does seem a coincidence. Key word being _coincidence_. But your sample pool is too small for us to make _any _decisions, especially given the ambiguities we currently face. If, and I say again _if, _the pattern continues, then we'll decide what we should do then. But right now, all I want to do is get a shower and some dinner." He turned to Weir. "Are we through?"

Weir nodded to Bates. "Give us a moment, Sergeant."

Bates glanced between them, then shrugged. "You're in command, sir," he said, directing the comment towards Sheppard, then exited the bay.

Sheppard shook his head. "Unbelievable!"

"John. Stop," Weir met his eyes levelly. "He has a point."

"About what? My being in command or that we have a potential security breach?" Sheppard's tone was bitter.

Weir ignored the first question, instead focusing on the second. "We need to be concerned about the seeming pattern of Wraith contact. It may well be an issue and we have to be aware of it."

John shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Has Stackhouse had any issues with his team?"

"Not as of yet, no, but he's only taken his team out once so far," Weir admitted.

"Well, then I'd say we're looking at a one in four Wraith encounter rate. I don't count the first mission to the Wraith planet, because it was a _Wraith planet. _I don't count the second encounter, because there was no Wraith encounter. That was sort of a post-Wraith encounter. But yeah, this time we ran into the Wraith. And we kicked their asses and saved some people and altogether did good things."

Weir smiled. "All right. One in three rate for your team, _for now. _But we need to be vigilant, John, and we need to keep our eyes open for this kind of thing." She glanced at him, somewhat challengingly. "This is why we have Bates around, you know."

"Doctor Weir... we don't have a spy. It doesn't make any _sense. _Nobody from the expedition could be the source and the Athosians were all about to die when we got them off their world. No one on Atlantis has any reason to help the Wraith kill my team," replied Sheppard.

"I guess we'll see." Weir gestured to the exit from the jumper bay and Sheppard gladly started walking towards the exit. "So, you did good things out there today?" Weir gracefully changed the topic to one in which they were not likely to disagree, something Sheppard noticed but decided not to comment on. Whatever else she was, Elizabeth Weir was certainly a diplomat.

"Yeah. Good things. Saved lives, lived to tell about it, all in all a good day."

"I look forward to reading your report, then."

Sheppard grimaced. "Report. Yeah."


	4. Doubt

**Doubt**

_TAG to Suspicion_

Rodney McKay was focused on the task at hand. Following the incredibly lucky (and oh-so amazing!) discovery that the roof to the jumper bay retracted - something he _should _have discovered weeks ago, he berated himself silently - he had spent as much time as was humanly possible going through the city's computer systems. The roof retraction subroutine wasn't exactly small, and both he and the expedition's team of structural engineers had completely missed the apparatus that made it possible for the roof to retract, and he didn't like being taken unawares. There were probably at least another half-dozen similar programs built into the city somewhere and it was up to him to find them before someone else did.

Unfortunately, he had spent the last few weeks largely distracted and not combing through the bowels of Atlantis' computer. When you added together the time that Carson required he spend in the infirmary for "routine check-ups" just in case his ATA gene had unforeseen side effects or started to degrade (which, he allowed, wasn't entirely a waste of his time, as losing the gene would have catastrophic consequences since he would no longer be able to regulate many of the city's more touchy subsystems), the absolutely _insane _amount of time Lieutenant Ford forced him to spend in the city's makeshift armory testing weaponry (he was just starting to get the hang of the P90, although he still wasn't comfortable with carrying a firearm in general), the absurdly large amount of time he was forced to spend offworld talking to natives or exploring ancient archaeological ruins (which, for the most part, weren't actually Ancient, just old) or getting shot at (He got shot! in the _face! _and no one even seemed to care after the initial concern he might be dead! It was "He'll be fine, nevermind the fact that he can't feel his _tongue!"_) working his way systematically through all of Atlantis' minor systems had sadly been an impossibility.

So, those duties got handed off to Grodin, Zelenka and the like. They were growing on him, he admitted. Grodin was a fine scientist and an even better organizer and had become Elizabeth's unofficial go-between with the scientific community (which meant she spent as little time interacting with Kavanaugh as possible) and had managed to keep just about all the ongoing research projects on schedule. Everything from trying to reverse-engineer a jumper (Zelenka was doing all right at understanding how the jumper worked, but actually trying to replicate one was clearly beyond his immediate capabilities) to very carefully studying what Beckett continued to be convinced was an Ancient research lab into the possibility of artificial Ascension.

He'd actually been working on Zelenka's jumper project, trying to help him figure out exactly how the jumper's power source worked and why they all hadn't gone dead with 10,000 years of negligence when Sergeant Bates had busted into his lab and dumped all of Teyla's belongings onto his desk. At the time he'd been exceptionally reluctant - although he'd been somewhat intimidated by Teyla at first, she'd saved his life at least twice over the course of their first nine missions offworld (which was about half the number of times he'd saved the lives of each of the other team members, he thought smugly) and he... appreciated her adaptability.

Then he'd found the Wraith transmitter device and he'd actually considered the possibility that she might be a security risk, he admitted guiltily. That worry had been quickly disabused by Major Sheppard who immediately pointed out that the device in question was one that _he _had found back on Athos, which prompted McKay to analyze it again and realize it wasn't tracking _Teyla, _it was tracking _Sheppard. _And himself, he considered - his Ancient gene might have been working against him as well as for him in this particular instance.

But still, McKay was finding himself almost consumed by those few moments of weakness to the point where he was unable to read Zelenka's notes comparing the jumper energy modules to the more powerful ZPM unit. He sighed and let his eyes glaze over, leaning down over the keyboard with his head in his hands. For those few instants between discovery and Sheppard's sudden insight into what the Wraith device was, he'd been convinced that Teyla was a spy. An enemy. Even a monster.

If he'd found the transmitter in Sheppard's belongings, he would have examined it and discovered it was keyed to the Ancient gene before going back to Bates. He would have looked twice, figured it out before jumping to conclusions. But because Teyla was _the outsider _he'd willingly suspended what he should have known was true - that she was no traitor - and allowed his imagination to run away with him.

He'd even gone through her belongings without her permission, even before that, he suddenly realized. If he'd asked Teyla she would undoubtedly said it was all right for him to check through the items she brought with them offworld - someone _should _have considered the possibility that it was an item someone had picked up, not a person, who was responsible weeks ago! But even then he'd followed Bates' order, despite the fact that as a civilian he had no obligation to follow anyone's orders except Elizabeth and Major Sheppard, and the second was only because he was a member of Sheppard's team.

He should have asked, he berated himself. He should never have jumped to conclusions. He should have...

"McKay!" a voice exclaimed from the doorway. "You need to go get some sleep. With gate operations back to normal, we'll be headed out sooner than you think," Sheppard moseyed into the office, glancing down at his watch. "But I guess it's not too late yet." Sheppard walked behind McKay, glancing over his shoulders at (what to him must have looking like utter gibberish) the detailed schematics of the jumper power source. "Oh, Ford is fine, if you were wondering. He tripped and hit his head, the klutz, when the Wraith were shooting at him. Doc Beckett says it might be a minor concussion but he's just plain paranoid, and he's cleared Ford for duty so we'll be headed back out tomorrow."

At this point, Sheppard realized that McKay wasn't responsive. He waved a hand in front of the scientist's face. "Hey! McKay! You're the one who doesn't sleep until it's way past time!" Sheppard eyed him, head cocked slightly. "Are you suffering from caffeine withdrawal? We really gotta get you to stop drinking up the expeditions stores, when it's gone, it's gone..." McKay continued to be unresponsive, so Sheppard shrugged. "I assume you heard everything I said, but just in case... mission tomorrow, Ford fine, stop drinking coffee, go get some sleep."

Sheppard took one last glance at McKay, peering over his shoulders in an attempt to see whatever it was he was staring at, then shrugged. "Whatever," he muttered, and headed for the door.

One foot was through the door frame when McKay finally spoke. "Sheppard, have you apologized to Teyla?"

Sheppard stopped, turned on his heels, and took on an inquisitive expression. "Well... no. But I never doubted Teyla was innocent. It's the other Athosians I owe an apology." He shrugged. "I knew it wasn't any of our guys and I while couldn't believe that one of them would be responsible for our troubles with the Wraith, eventually it got to the point where it seemed the only real possibility that could explain the constant run-ins." He stepped back into the room.

McKay was silent. "I owe Teyla an apology," he admitted.

"So apologize. It's not that hard. You find the other person, walk up to them, and say 'Hey. I'm sorry I doubted you.'"

"It's not that easy."

"Yeah, Rodney, it _is_ that easy."

"No it's not."

"Yes, it..." Sheppard sighed, exasperated. "I am not going to have one of those six-year old back and forth debates with you!" He pressed the talk button on his radio. "Teyla, you there?" He paused and grinned at the horror that had suddenly appeared on McKay's face. "Nah, it's nothing really vital, in fact I suspect that it will get old really fast over the course of the next day, but you're needed over in McKay's lab. Nah, it's no hurry, but I'd get here before he goes to bed." Sheppard glanced over at McKay who suddenly looked like a caged rat. "Actually, Teyla, try not to take so long. If you do, your reason for coming down might mysteriously vanish. No, I told you, it's not vital... All right, I'll wait for you to make sure he doesn't run off. Thanks." He switched off his radio. "Two words, McKay. I'm sorry."

McKay was back hunched over his keyboard, head in hands. "Unbelievable!"

Sheppard looked perplexed at McKay's reticence. "You obviously must not screw up much. I could give you lessons in that, if you like. Are you new to this whole apology thing? Not your scene?"

"No!" McKay retorted. "I apologized to Samantha Carter once!"

"Oh, well if you've apologized to someone _once_, then it shouldn't be so hard to do it a second time." Sheppard didn't laugh, but McKay could tell he wanted to. "Do you want me to stay and hold your hand?"

"Major Sheppard, you asked for me?" Teyla's smooth voice floated through the room between them and Sheppard's face took on an increasingly taunting expression.

"Get out!" McKay hissed.

Sheppard turned towards the door grinned at Teyla, who was clearly confused. "Good luck!" he said to her jauntily, then left with a hop in his step.

Teyla entered the room slowly, as if searching for a hidden threat. "Rodney?" she asked slowly, cautiously. "Did you require my presence for something?"

McKay stood tenuously. "I... ah... well..." He grimaced and Teyla's face took on the beginnings of a knowing - and understanding - expression. "I wanted to say I was sorry," he spit out. "I shouldn't have gone through your things without your permission, and I shouldn't have doubted..."

Teyla smiled. "It's all right, Rodney. I accept your apology, and I understand you were concerned. Had I been in your situation I may have come to the same conclusion."

"I... well... you do?" McKay asked tremulously.

"Yes," Teyla responded. "You are very far from home and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that none of your people could be working for the Wraith. It is only understandable that you should suspect those that are not of your world when faced with these kinds of questions." Teyla rested a comforting hand on McKay's shoulder. "Lieutenant Ford introduced me to an expression from your world, although I suspect it is not said in exactly this way: 'stuff happens.' I do not hold your anxieties against you, Doctor, and would have been more concerned if you and the others had disregarded the clear and obvious thread for no reason other than your unwillingness to suspect me. You may view such sentiment as a strength, but when faced with the Wraith it can sometimes lead to an untimely death."

"I see," McKay responded. He sat down. "I just..." he paused and Teyla sat in an opposing chair, waiting for him to continue. "Where we come from, most of the people don't even know there is life outside our own atmosphere. The governments fear what such knowledge would do and believe it would panic the people and... well..." McKay gave a short burst of laughter, "they're probably right. But because we did not have outside threats like the Wraith or the Goa'uld, we found enemies amongst one another. National boundaries, ethnic differences, religious conflicts, things that don't exist out here cause constant strife on Earth. We did not fight enemies like the Wraith, so instead we fought each other. I suspected you because you were different... because you were from here. Even I have not escaped two thousand years of indoctrination."

Teyla looked even more confused now than she had before. "But... it was my differences from you that made it possible for me to _be _a threat. If I had been from your world I could not have been a servant to the Wraith." Realizing that this did not make McKay feel any better, she shrugged. "I believe you are a good man, Doctor McKay, if flawed. But we all have our flaws. It is best if we are aware of them. Think of this as a learning experience. You learned something of yourself. Now you know it is there and will be able to avoid letting it dictate your beliefs in the future."

"All right," McKay sighed. "I am sorry, Teyla."

"I am sorry also. I did not think that one of my possessions could be servant to the Wraith. It is something my people and I should have considered, but I believed that an item that once was a gift from my father could not possibly be made to serve our enemy." She smiled sadly. "We all must learn from our mistakes."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Sheppard shook his head in bemusement as he left McKay's lab, Teyla and McKay still inside. McKay was starting to grow into his own, he admitted as he meandered slowly back in the general direction of the gate room. Despite his shame at his actions in regards to Teyla and the Athosians, McKay had done well and, in Sheppard's opinion, done the right thing in every case.

Sheppard himself _had _allowed his personal feelings to get in the way of his better judgment. The people who populated Atlantis, including the Athosians, were the closest thing he had to family - he had long been estranged from his own and hadn't spoken to his father or brother since long before he'd even been assigned to Antarctica, well over a year. Maybe even two years, he mused. And it could be a long time before he spoke to any of them again.

Perhaps against his own soldier's instincts, he had found himself growing close to his team, including Teyla, but also to Ford and McKay. He'd only known them for a matter of months, but he'd saved each of their lives and they had saved his. In a small, isolated and self-dependent community like Atlantis, there was always anxiety that you could lose those few that you had and Sheppard, as the base military commander, had fewer than most.

In the last few weeks he'd grown a little more comfortable, socializing with more people (especially with the women), but close relationships were something he had to shy away from. Despite that, he'd allowed himself to be compromised in terms of his feelings for his team. He wasn't sure how to describe what they meant to him - Ford was something of a little brother, he supposed, what with the baiting and teasing between them, such as their continuing back and forth over naming rights. McKay... cousin? Second cousin? McKay was definitely the most brilliant member of his own fledgling Atlantian family, but he coupled that with the cliche social ineptitude, making him the polar opposite of Sheppard in many ways (Sheppard would never admit to him that he'd passed the Mensa test, that was a conversation they really didn't need to have). Teyla was... probably the hardest to describe. Aside from the extremely muted attraction they had to one another, something he knew they both acknowledged and silently agreed acting on would be a very bad idea, she was the closest thing he'd ever had to a sister. Her calming presence and her wisdom - and her innate ability to seemingly be aware of her circumstances at all times, despite whatever chaos that surrounded them - helped to give him a balance and stability he had lacked since he almost got thrown out of the military following the incident in Afghanistan.

Bates had been right, although so had Sheppard - Teyla hadn't been a security breach, but the reason he refused to even contemplate the possibility was largely a consequence of his refusal to consider that one of his fledgling family could be a traitor. He had never been one to trust blindly, and so granting her that level of trust so quickly after they had met was probably dangerous, but she had _earned _it. It wasn't exactly personal feelings in the way Bates had probably intended it when he'd thrown it in his face - he knew there were rumors about him and, well, just about every woman he'd ever come into contact with on base, one of the unfortunate results of a small, insular community - but it was personal feelings.

He owed Bates an apology, he acknowledged. Bates might have seemed completely paranoid and overly aggressive, but he needed to be. Out here, so far from home and severed from everything they had ever known, such paranoia was probably as useful as it was dangerous. And, while that paranoia had led Bates to effectively violate Teyla's personal property, it had also led to the discovery of their security breach and Teyla's vindication.

It was somewhat ironic that it wasn't Teyla the Wraith had been hunting, but him. That probably shouldn't surprise him, in hindsight - as far as the Wraith were concerned, Teyla was food. Sheppard, on the other hand, held in his DNA the legacy of the Wraith's ancient enemy, an enemy they had fought and eventually defeated in a hard-fought war. He remembered the look on the Wraith's face back after he'd shot Sumner when she recognized the life signs detector he carried - a combination of surprise, shock, and a faint uneasiness that had looked out of place, as if it was something she hadn't experienced in a long time. Millennia, perhaps.

Sheppard's train of thought cut off abruptly when he came to the entrance to the gate room and strode inside, glancing about. Grodin and Zelenka were hunched over one of the computers, doing whatever it was they did in their free time. Weir was talking to someone in her office, he couldn't recognize who it was from here.

He jogged up the flight of stairs, glancing towards the post that Bates usually occupied while he was on duty, but it was vacant. Tossing a short look towards Grodin and Zelenka, both of them preoccupied with what they were doing and seemingly unaware of his presence, he took a few long strides towards Weir's office. He stopped short when he realized it was Bates chatting with his boss, their conversation quietly animated. He caught Weir's eyes for an instant but she looked away before Bates realized, and she stood up, clearly ending the conversation. Bates nodded and turned around, meeting Sheppard's eyes.

Weir dismissed Bates and the Sergeant walked towards Sheppard, seemingly confident. "Major," he acknowledged as he came close.

"Sergeant," Sheppard replied. He paused for a long second, the two of them silently recognizing their respective positions of authority and the roles they each filled on Atlantis. "Bates," Sheppard finally started again, his voice trailing off. "Keep doing what you're doing," he finished.

Bates nodded slowly. "You too, Major." Then with some mutual, unspoken agreement they walked past one another, Bates heading to his station, and Sheppard heading into Weir's office.

She too had become a member of his family, like Teyla, McKay, and Ford... he had even more trouble placing her than he did Teyla. Their mutual attraction was far less subdued than the one he shared with Teyla, what with the persistent flirting they both enjoyed, although it was equally unlikely that it would ever be acted upon. He wondered at that, whether if they hadn't been the expedition leader and its military commander, if they _would_ have acted upon the attraction... but there were lots of other women in Atlantis and it wasn't worth dwelling upon.

He admitted, though, that their arguments felt less like professional arguments and more like the arguments he used to have with his ex-wife. Weir knew everything he did because he reported to her, while three-quarters of his missions had been classified during his marriage. His then-wife had never _really _known what he was doing, other than he was overseas flying something somewhere...

So definitely not sibling... maybe in his imaginary family his brother had married her sister? Come to think of it, did Weir even _have _a sister? Or any siblings at all?

He suddenly realized he'd been lost in thought halfway between where he'd been talking to Bates and Weir's office and she was staring at him with that damned flirtatious twinkle in her eye. She played the game well, he realized ruefully, perhaps even better than he, even though she didn't pursue it as... actively... as he did.

"John?" she asked, amusement dancing in her voice. "Did you want to talk to me, or did you just want to wait in the imaginary line?"

Sheppard grinned ruefully. "I was lost in thought," he admitted, entering the room and resting in the chair opposite her desk.

"I could see that," she responded. She gestured towards the doorway. "What'd you say to Bates?"

"Oh, you know, general encouragement and the sort." He raised his eyebrow slightly in a challenge. "Just because I threw him out of our meeting doesn't mean I don't appreciate what he brings to Atlantis."

"And what does Sergeant Bates bring to Atlantis?"

Sheppard paused, having not anticipated the question. Weir looked on, curious. "Equal parts impartiality and paranoia," Sheppard finally responded.

"Impartiality and paranoia. Valuable qualities in a security chief," Weir said, nodding. "I think I'll keep him." Weir paused. "We're lucky, you know," she said.

Sheppard glanced up. Weir had lost the levity of her earlier expression. "What part of this whole situation strikes you as lucky?"

"That the Athosians were so understanding, and more importantly, that they were so willing to move to the mainland. If they'd been more confrontational, or if they'd been unwilling to understand the difficulty of our situation..."

"You owe Teyla for that, you know," Sheppard was quick to point out.

"I should thank her again, shouldn't I," Weir noted,

Sheppard winced. "I'd hold off on that if I were you... Teyla's going to be swamped with thanks and apologies over the next few days. In fact," he glanced at his watch, "I'd bet good money that she's still listening to McKay grovel with that stoic, super-polite look on her face."

Weir smiled slightly. "Well, since I've already apologized once, I'll wait and let everyone else get their turn in before taking a second one for myself," she allowed.

"That might be a good idea," Sheppard confirmed. He waved at the pile of papers on her desk. "So, what's next on our long list of problems?"

Weir offhandedly picked up a stack of papers, flipping negligently through them. "Well, there's... the Wraith..." she tossed the paper behind her. "Our dwindling food supplies..." she tossed the next paper, "our always-pressing need for a ZPM, which Rodney is _always _quick to remind me about," she sighed as she flipped the paper, "Carson wants more test subjects for the ATA gene but so far no one has volunteered," she stopped flipping pages and dropped the still-thick stack back on the desk, "and, of course, your request that I have all the civilians on base train with basic firearms."

Sheppard looked confused. "What's wrong with that?"

Weir hit him with a look that clearly broadcast skepticism. "John."

"I've got a .45 cal with your name on it, although if you want a weapon which is slightly more _feminine," _he raised an eyebrow at her and got an equal look in response, "my superiors were sure to bring a whole _host _of 9 millimeters."

"John, I'm not going to let you teach me how to use a handgun."

"I guarantee you'll be forced to learn eventually."

"I've spent my life trying to eradicate the need for weapons, Major. That was my calling. I'm not going to let you teach me how to use them."

Sheppard leaned forward, cocking his head. "And there's a slight difference between the United Nations and the _Wraith."_

Weir grimaced. "They're not as different as you might think," she muttered.

Sheppard grinned at her. "Eventually, I _will_ get you into a firing range."

She shrugged, leaning back into her chair, accepting his challenge with a held glance and a half smile. "We'll see."

Sheppard gestured towards the stack of papers on her desk. "You left out one rather major concern."

"Oh?"

"The fact that we now have a Wraith locked in our confinement cells?"

"Believe me, I haven't forgotten," Weir replied. "You spoke to him?"

"Spoke is a good word for it... it wasn't exactly an interrogation and I was very careful to stay on the far side of the barrier," John said dryly.

"What did he have to say?"

Sheppard grimaced. "You know those SGC combat mission reports you had me read? Especially those by General O'Neill, with his constant complaints about the Goa'uld's seemingly psychological need to be overly dramatic in a superhero bad guy kind of way?"

Despite the subject material, Weir smiled. "I remember."

"He said that by capturing him, we'd 'hastened our own doom' and that when the other Wraith came, there'd be nowhere we could hide. Oh, and that when he escaped, he'd be sure to feed on me first."

"Do you think he was telling the truth?" At Sheppard's sudden incredulous look, she quickly amended it with, "about our hastening our own doom. Maybe he has some way to communicate with the rest of his kind."

"We were _sure _to take all of his gizmos and gadgets away from him. He didn't even have anything interesting."

"But there is much we don't know about the Wraith, John. Maybe they're telepathic! Maybe they can sense the presence of other Wraith. We know they are capable of manipulating the minds of their prisoners."

Sheppard shrugged. "Do you want me to go down there and shoot him to be safe?" Weir glared at him. "Just saying..."

"Is he secure?"

"Bates is making sure of it."

"We do need to find out what he's capable of doing," Weir pointed out.

"We _could_ just let Beckett do an autopsy..."

"...and this is the best way to learn right now." She narrowed her eyes at him. "No killing prisoners."

"Just by holding him we're killing him. It's not like we can feed him, we're basically starving him to death."

"And _then _we can let Carson do an autopsy," Weir said. Sheppard's eyes widened at her apparent callousness and Weir shrugged in response. "Pragmatism."

"I guess I can't argue with that logic..." Sheppard's eyes were drawn back to the stack of papers on her desk that he was effectively distracted her from with this little tete-a-tete. "I'm going to go check on Ford," he said suddenly. "He was well enough to come along earlier, but Beckett said he might have a minor concussion, and besides, _we _have a mission tomorrow."

Weir smiled. "I'll go back to pondering the dozen different major problems Atlantis has to solve between now and next week."

Sheppard glanced at her sideways as he stood and headed for the door. "You do that," he agreed.

Weir smiled at him. "Good night, John."

Sheppard waved at her jauntily. "Night boss."


	5. Life's Lessons

**Life's Lessons**

TAG to Childhood's End

The puddlejumper hummed calmly under Major Sheppard's hands, his mind calmly flicking out against the ship's systems, the ship reigned in by the years of experience that guided his fingers and his innate ability to reach out and touch Ancient equipment.

His thoughts were not as calm. They were headed back to Atlantis now, confident in the Ancient device that McKay had restored and which was, even now, protecting the youth of M7G-677 from the Wraith.

They had given those children a great gift, he knew, glancing sideways at the twenty-five year old Lieutenant Aiden Ford, who was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, silently resting as they travelled back towards the gate. To have to die at the age of twenty-four... when he'd been twenty-four, it'd been - he paused for a second to run the math through his mind - _damn_, he'd been on his first tour of duty during the Gulf War.

That had been a _long _time ago. A lifetime ago. Maybe two lifetimes ago. Christ.

He wondered what Ford would be doing when he was as old as Sheppard was now. Would Ford be back on Earth, having returned victorious years before, with a wife and kids? Sheppard had done the wife thing and wasn't keen to repeat the experience. Maybe Ford would still be here, on Atlantis, having replaced Sheppard as the Atlantis commander years before, stuck in the role because Atlantis had never found a usable ZPM and reinforcements had never come. That struck Sheppard as unlikely - they had, after all, already gotten their hands on one ZPM. There had to be others out there in Pegasus, just waiting to be found.

Maybe Ford would be dead, having been fed to a Wraith after, during their inevitable invasion of the newly-populated, totally defenseless Atlantis, he had fallen in that valiant but utterly unwinnable battle.

Sheppard grimaced, the puddlejumper jolting slightly in response to the unrest the thought provoked in his mind. God, he hoped that wouldn't be the case. They would find something, anything, to defend themselves against the Wraith. The kids had, after all. If push came to shove they could hide out under the shield until they came up with a workable alternative.

Something Weir had said to him right after their arrival stuck with him, though. _"One of the few things we do know is that they are the enemy that defeated the Ancients." _

Defeated the Ancients. Yeah.

Behind him Teyla spoke. She had evidently identified the silence as one that needed to be broken; either that, or she had concerns of her own that she wished to address. Maybe both. "I worry for the people of this world," she said, her concern evident in the quality of her voice. "We have changed their world in ways that we cannot yet comprehend. Who knows what changes might come from the events that have taken place?"

Ford's eyes opened and he tilted the chair slightly to face the aft compartment. "We stopped them from killing themselves just because they turned twenty-five. I don't know about you guys, but to me that is nothing but a good thing."

Teyla's expression was uncertain. "Whatever we may think of their ways, before our arrival they had gone five hundred years without being culled by the Wraith."

"They were killing themselves for no good reason," interjected McKay. He'd been watching Sheppard's casual manipulation of the jumper intently, having made it back to Atlantis in the jumper earlier but with... some minor difficulties. Now his focus changed to Teyla. "The field generator was working at far less than its capacity and it was bound to give up sometime in the next hundred or so years anyway. No matter how many children they have there is no possible way for them to outgrow the field perimeter before the shield gives out."

"McKay is right," Sheppard interjected. "They deserve the chance to be more than they are now. No one should have to kill themselves when they turn twenty-five just because they've lived too long."

Teyla nodded her assent. "Perhaps this is so. But there are still other concerns. I do not know how quickly they will be able to adjust to this new way of life. Ares and others may not be so willing to end the sacrifices on the word of outsiders and the evidence provided of one experience." She paused, frowning. "I believe it will be some time before they find it in their ability to finally end the sacrifices. Many more will likely die before all of their people accept what is true."

"We did what we could do," Sheppard pointed out. "And the lives we saved are worth the chaos." He glanced over at Ford. "Lieutenant, where were you when you turned twenty-five?"

Ford smiled. "I was posted at the SGC," he said. "God, that was a _crazy_ year! I mean, I remember getting tabbed for a transfer and receiving my orders and all they said was 'Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs.' Not exactly the front lines - at least, not if you're looking at a map! I was incredibly disappointed, especially when I realized I was assigned to something called 'Deep Space Radar Telemetry.' I mean, what did that mean and how was _I_ qualified for it?"

Sheppard smirked, remembering the way Ford introduced him to the Stargate.

"But then I actually got there and General Hammond took me and the other new recruits aside and told us what we were actually getting ourselves into... You know, I nearly flunked out of basic training? Colonel Dixon took me and my recruit team and really put us through the ringer."

"I skipped basic training," Sheppard mused. "I wonder if taking it would have helped any."

"I doubt it, sir. They trained us to face the Goa'uld, not the Wraith. The Goa'uld are one thing, the Wraith are something very different."

"What are the Goa'uld?" Teyla asked, intrigued.

Sheppard glanced at Ford and McKay. "You mean no one ever bothered to brief her on Earth and the threats our world faces back home?" He rolled his eyes at their blank expressions. "Rodney, you're up."

McKay started. "Me?" Ford chuckled as McKay tossed Sheppard a glare. He turned to Teyla. "The Goa'uld are a race of parasitical aliens which use humans as hosts. They latch onto the brain at the base of the skull and subvert the human host, controlling his body for their own purposes. In our galaxy they have been the dominant power for the last eight to ten thousand years. We've been fighting them ever since we found our Stargate."

Teyla winced. "It seems your own world is not devoid of its own dangers."

"Yeah, but at least they don't suck the life out of you," Ford tossed out. "And the Goa'uld are horrible and pure evil, but our galaxy isn't all bad. We've found some powerful allies of our own, like the Asgard. They've saved our asses on a couple of occasions."

"The Asgard?" Teyla asked.

Ford grinned. "Little grey dudes with black eyes, about yay tall," he held his hand up just under his waist. "They were once allies of the Ancients, thousands of years ago. They're enemies of the Goa'uld like we are and provide help on occasion, but they have their own problems to deal with too."

"Another enemy powerful enough to threaten those like the Ancients?" Teyla looked horrified at the possibility.

"Yeah," Ford grimaced. "The Replicators."

"They don't kill for the sake of killing or even for surviving. The Replicators seemed to be programmed to absorb all material possible and create more of themselves. They're very good at adapting technology for their own uses," McKay added. "They're a brilliant creation but, despite their incredible ability to innovate, they seem to exist on an almost purely instinctual basis."

"The universe is a dangerous place," Teyla said quietly. "I was very young when I first learned of the Wraith, and for as long as I can remember they seemed the greatest threat imaginable. To learn that somewhere out there are threats that could challenge even the Wraith is... disconcerting."

Sheppard, being relatively new to all this himself, absorbed as much of the conversation as he could. He'd read all the material concerning the Replicators and the Goa'uld he could, probably even more than Ford had given his higher level of security clearance, but hearing about the enemy from people who had encountered them first-hand (or even those who had encounter people who had encounter them first-hand) gave him small insights into enemies he might someday have to face.

Of course, the Wraith were still out there and were his primary concern, but...

Ford's head suddenly shot up and he turned to Teyla. "How old are you, Teyla?"

Sheppard shot Ford a reproachful look. "Don't you know you're never supposed to ask a lady her age?"

Teyla laughed. "It is all right, John." She turned to Ford. "I am thirty-three," she informed him.

"So, where were you when you were twenty-four?" Ford asked eagerly.

"Well, until your people came I spent most of my life on Athos, or on planets near Athos, trading for supplies and things we did not need." She paused, thinking back. "When I was twenty-four I believe I had already encounter the Wraith on two separate occasions - they came to Athos when I was younger. That was when I was taught everything I needed to know to lead and protect my people. When I grew in age I became one of the leaders of my people." She frowned. "The Wraith came early in my twenty-third year. I killed one, protecting another villager. It was the first Wraith my people had killed in many years. I did not become the leader of the Athosians in name then, but it was after that many first turned to me for leadership."

Sheppard glanced back at McKay. "What about you, Rodney? Where were you when you were twenty-four?"

McKay said something quickly and at a very lower decibel level and Sheppard cocked his head at him. Ford's eyebrows rose. "What did you say, McKay?"

"I said I was still in school when I was twenty-four. I was getting my PhD in astrophysics."

Sheppard laughed. "You mean you didn't have it already?" he teased.

"Most of what I learned in school became obsolete anyway, especially after I learned about the Stargate program. My _true _education took place after I was briefed on the program and brought in. I learned everything I could about the gate and its technology and became the foremost expert on the technology in under a year," McKay commented, somehow managing to be defensive and smug simultaneously.

"Except Colonel Carter," Ford disagreed.

"I know the technology better than Samantha Carter," McKay shot back in consternation. "She spends too much time offworld, running around playing hero while the true scientists stay at home working to understand all the mistakes the offworld teams make and fix them!"

Sheppard took both hands off the jumper's controls and the ship stopped in midair, hovering about sixty feet from the Stargate. He turned, stood, and waved his hand erratically, pointing first at the jumper, then Ford, then towards the Stargate, then back down at the world they hovered above, and mostly at McKay. "_She _spends all _her _time working offworld while the people back home try to understand_ her _mistakes and try to fix them?" he asked incredulously.

Ford smirked. "Sounds familiar, doesn't it," he said.

Teyla too smiled. "I believe I should like to meet this Colonel Carter. It sounds as if she is quite capable of fixing any mistakes she might by herself, without the assistance of others."

"I wonder what Zelenka and Grodin would say if I told them what you just told us," Sheppard asked pensively. "I think Zelenka would respond with something incomprehensible in Czech."

McKay glowered at them. "Without me along on these teams you guys would have been killed a dozen times over!"

"Without you on this team, Rodney, I don't think we would ever have broken the field generator in the first place, much less almost gotten us killed trying to give you time to fix it," Sheppard said pointedly. "Nobody's perfect. Not even you."

"Well," Ford commented, his voice betraying his enthusiasm at teasing McKay, "Colonel Carter might be."

McKay shot Ford a hard glare, then moved his focus back to the jumper's main window. "Are we going to go through the gate, or just sit here?"

Sheppard grinned. "Take the helm, Rodney. This one's all yours."

McKay glanced uncertainly at him and took the helm. Beside him, Sheppard watched closely as McKay dialed up the gate and directed the jumper down towards it. Right before they punctured the event horizon Ford glanced up at his CO. "Sir? What were _you _doing when you were twenty-four?"

Sheppard's face took on a slightly morose smile as he stared blankly, remembering past battles. "I was still following orders, Lieutenant."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

"I was flying a sortie just inside of Iraqi airspace, just a couple dozen miles south of the Iraq/Kuwaiti border," Sheppard was saying as he entered the gate room, "about two weeks after the beginning of the conflict. We'd had a number of encounters with Iraqi fighters, of course, and I'd flown into enemy airspace before, but I'd never gotten into a dogfight until that one morning. I had a wingman out of a different base whose real name I didn't know at the time, but his callsign was Rusty."

Ford barked laughter as Teyla listened intently next to him, McKay following a pace behind them both. "Rusty, sir?"

"Yeap. Rusty. Anyway, Rusty and I were based out of Kuwait and were working on making sure the Iraqi military didn't have any weapons with sufficient range to hit critical targets inside of Kuwait, so we were doing recon of Al Basbrah and southern Al Muthanna. We didn't find anything, not on the ground, but as we were crossing over the Euphrates we were intercepted by a pair of enemy fighters." Sheppard shrugged, waving his hand slightly. "Rusty and I were in superior fighters but you know as well as I that all it takes is a single good shot to ruin your day, so I broke into evasive to draw one of the bogies off while Rusty went offensive. I picked up a tail and Rusty nailed the sonufabitch, but the second bogie got off a pair of heatseekers that were trailing on Rusty. I rolled my fighter up and scraped the MiG off his back, and he shook one of the missiles, but the second exploded close enough to damage one of his engines. He lost most of his fuel and was forced to ground in northern Al Basbrah."

"Did you ever find out what happened to him, sir?" Ford asked. By this time they'd drawn some of the attention from the command center staff and Weir gestured to Sheppard both, beckoning his team into her office. Sheppard cut himself off and waved them into Weir's office, noting her eyes were alight, probably with questions about their previous mission (and maybe, depending on how much she had heard, about the end of Sheppard's war story).

Sheppard glanced at Ford. "I'll finish this one later, Ford. Debriefing time."

Ford sighed. "Yes, sir."

McKay was the one to begin the debriefing, addressing Weir with his most official tone. "I fixed the field generator and eliminated the Wraith threat, Elizabeth. I also managed to extend the range of the field generator without compromising its longevity to any serious degree, so they should be able to stop the sacrifices without overly damaging their protection between now and its inevitable failure."

"How long do they have?" Weir asked.

"At least fifty years. It could conceivably last as long as a century if it receives proper maintenance."

Sheppard caught Weir's eyes and held them. "We did manage to open up what might be the start of decent relations between the two cultures, so we might be able to send techs and medics to help them every so often. Even though they can't use technology yet while in the confines of the shield, it's important that they learn how for when it becomes their only means of defense against the Wraith."

"I know we practically turned their beliefs upside down," Weir noted. "How will we be received when we return?"

Teyla fielded this question. "Some of the children will view us as liberators," she noted. "With a population as small as theirs is, many may latch onto us as the heroes who saved them from the sacrifices. Others will view us as a threat to their culture and their way of life - corruptors. It is only a few, like Keris, that will see us as we truly are - merely people who wish to help however they can."

Sheppard winced. "Ares will probably always be antagonistic. On the bright side they're all so _young. _They have time to learn."

"And we should teach them whatever we can. As you say, Major, allies are something that we always need."

"We shouldn't ignore the fact that they have a ZPM either," Ford noted. "If the security of Atlantis ever becomes severely compromised we do have an emergency recourse now."

McKay shook his head. "Lieutenant, that ZPM is almost as badly drained as the ones we recovered when we arrived. It would only be able to power the shield for a few hours at best and that's not taking into account any other systems. While we might - I stress the might here - be able to get a _few _hours of power out of it, any functionality it might have would be extremely limited."

"But the option is there," Ford countered.

"Doing so would require depriving the children of their only defense against the Wraith," Teyla said. She turned to Weir. "I do not believe this should be considered except in the utmost desperation. The Ancestors gave this gift to the people of that world, it is not ours to take away."

"I agree," Weir said, glancing at Sheppard who sat silently in his chair. "It is good to have the option," she said, directing the comment at Ford, "but we need to respect the rights of our neighbors."

"Yes ma'am," Ford acceded reluctantly.

"Now," Weir said, leaning forwards towards Sheppard, "Your wingman just got shot down in Southern Iraq," she noted.

Sheppard grimaced. "Yeah," he replied.

Ford grinned too. "What happened?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Well, there wasn't anything I could do for him at the time so I did the only thing I could. I radioed back to base and told them Rusty was on the ground but alive. They ordered me to come home so I did. Once on the base I started putting together a Special Ops team that would put us on the ground in the immediate area where Rusty had gone down - small team infiltration - and get Rusty out before the Iraqi's got their hands on him. Or after, if necessary."

McKay had apparently been listening as well, as he joined the conversation. "You were Special Operations when you were twenty-four?"

"Yeah," Sheppard responded, but he declined to elaborate. "Anyway, I wasn't senior enough to authorize a recovery op on my own so I went to my superior, a Colonel by the name of Vidrine. I asked him for the permission to go and he turned me down flat."

"Was anyone dispatched to recover your lost comrade?" Teyla asked.

"Nope. Two days later he was declared missing in action and presumed lost - that was when I learned Rusty's real name, Thomas Westerfeldt, USAF." Sheppard grimaced. "The Iraqis never admitted that they had him in custody, although they had to at that point. As far as I know no one from the United States saw Rusty again after I watched his parachute land." Sheppard sighed, tapping his hand against his leg. "Thirteen years later and he's still missing, presumed lost."

Sheppard glanced at his team. Teyla wore a look that conveyed sympathy and understanding - she had known similar events in her day. Her time fighting the Wraith had surely taught her the same lesson of futility and anguish that he had learned back in 1991. McKay looked horrified, clearly he had been anticipating a happy ending to this particular story, one in which Sheppard had been given permission to go get Rusty and bring him back - and in which the op had succeeded. Sheppard knew that even if he had been given permission to go, chances were very slim that they could have gotten Rusty out. With no intelligence to help them locate him it would have been like searching for a needly in a haystack guarded by a half dozen men with AK-47s. Ford was somber, surprised, sympathetic, but lacking true understanding of the feeling behind Sheppard's words.

Weir... Weir's face was the picture of sudden, surprised comprehension.

"That's what I remember from when I was twenty-four," Sheppard finished.

Weir's eyes were penetrating and he could feel them locked on his skull even though their eyes weren't in contact. "That stuck with you," she said in a knowing tone.

She knew his record. She knew why he'd been exiled to Antarctica, how he'd gone back for three Special Ops men pinned down in Western Afghanistan, disobeying direct orders from his superiors. She'd read the mission report that ended with a condemnation of his actions even though two of the three men had survived because he'd gone back.

Now she had an idea as to why. Sheppard didn't bother to acknowledge her new understanding, although he did meet her open eyes with his own, communicating with her without opening his mouth.

Teyla was silent, staring over Weir's shoulder at something that wasn't there, perhaps remembering one of her people, lost in a battle with the Wraith. McKay was pondering his kneecap, obviously out of his element. Ford, despite his experience, was still young and had never been responsible for the lives of another before coming to Atlantis - he clearly did not know what to say, if anything.

It was Weir who broke the silence. "I was still in grad school when I was twenty-four," she started, glancing between the people in the room to make sure she had gained their attention.

McKay nailed Ford and Sheppard with a look that clearly translated his vindication at not having been the only one to still be in the educational system, but Weir continued on, not acknowledging his presence. "I was working on my first degree, actually, but that summer instead of focusing on my education I went to Africa with a professor of mine, working as his aid in the negotiation of a settlement between two neighboring countries who were having a border dispute."

Weir paused, pondering the past events. "I didn't know the language but my professor - Professor Lear - he did. I spent most of my time there working to keep all his notes and books together and doing research whenever he needed it. The internet wasn't a big thing back then and computers, while useful, were nothing like they were today, so this was a bigger undertaking than it sounds like," she noted, directing the comment to Ford.

"Oh, the Commodore 64," lamented Sheppard.

Weir smiled. "He had one of those," she agreed. "Though it was pretty old, then. Anyway, three weeks into the negotiations they broke down and skirmishes started to crop up in the disputed territory. Nothing major, but it was enough that Professor Lear felt it important to get us out before things deteriorated further. We spent the next three days in the back of an old 1970s pickup truck making our way out of the warzone." She grimaced. "We did have a close call the third day. I ended up breaking my left leg in three places and doing some damage to my knee. It never did heal properly." Her left hand covered her knee, massaging it gently.

"Did you ever go back?" asked McKay.

"I didn't," Weir said, growing somber. "The Professor decided it was too dangerous to risk taking me back and sent me home. Besides, I wasn't mobile enough to go back. I started working on my dissertation again. Two weeks later I got a call from the University informing me that the Professor had been kidnapped by one of the warring sides and they were threatening to kill him if the other side didn't accede to their territorial demands." Weir blinked, her eyes searching out Sheppard's. "A week after that he was dead."

"I guess your twenty-fourth year wasn't a great year for either of you," McKay commented dryly.

"It's a good thing our lives didn't end then," Weir said, eyeing Sheppard seriously. "I would have hated to go out on a low note."

"We must make the most of the time we have, whether it is twenty-four years or a fifty or a hundred," Teyla said seriously.

Sheppard's eyes were still locked on Weir's. "Life has sucked at times," he admitted. "Friends dying, getting crappy orders to go here and there. But I can't complain about where it's led." He broke the eye contact.

"The kids on 667 deserve the chance to live more of their lives," Ford added. "If my first twenty-four years were all the years I got..." Ford glanced at each of them in turn, then shrugged. "At least I know there's nothing more I or anyone could have done. Between the SGC and Atlantis, my life has already been more than I could ever have imagined it to be when I turned twenty-four. And I intend to enjoy every minute of it."

Sheppard stood and slapped his shoulder. "Damn right, Ford." Then, with one last sidelong glance at Weir, he tapped Teyla's shoulder and nabbed Ford. "Come on, guys. I've still got half a dozen college games left and at least two bowls worth of microwaveable popcorn. Consider yourselves recalled to duty." Then he departed with a hop in his step, Teyla and Ford following.

Weir caught McKay on the way out. "Just a second, Rodney," she said.

McKay turned to her. "Elizabeth?"

"Rodney, next time you discover a piece of useful technology, I don't care how interesting it is, you are not to tamper with it until you discover exactly what it is and does and how you can put it back together if you take it apart," Weir said sternly. "We put the people of 667 in grave danger because of our actions. We cannot allow that to happen again. Clear?"

McKay rolled his eyes. "Yes, Elizabeth."

"Good." Weir nodded at him. "You can go." McKay sighed and turned to exit, walking through the door. Weir watched him stop to confer with Peter Grodin at the console overlooking the gate, the two of them conversing idly. Then she turned and regarded her watch. Deciding that she'd been at work for long enough and that she suddenly had an inexplicable urge for microwaveable popcorn, she shrugged on her jacket and headed towards the room where they had set up the big television.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

This was admittedly not the first time Sheppard had ever done something like this. But it was certainly the first time he'd ever done it voluntarily and without a direct order from a superior officer. But he knew Weir would never give such an order even if she knew he was having trouble sleeping - not even his copy of _War and Peace _was helping.

Kate Heightmeyer looked up from her desk as he rapped quietly on the door. "Major Sheppard?" she asked and for a second Sheppard was sure he saw a look of half apprehension, half surprise flit across her face. "Come in, Major."

Sheppard sat uncomfortably in the chair across from Heightmeyer and the two of them just looked at each other for a second. "This isn't the first time I've been to a shrink," Sheppard began, but Heightmeyer cut him off.

"I prefer psychiatrist," she said, slightly teasing, attempting to lighten the mood.

"All shrinks do," Sheppard muttered. "I've been having dreams."

"They keep you from sleep?" Heightmeyer asked.

"Would I be here if they didn't?" Sheppard replied dryly.

"I don't know, Major, would you?"

Sheppard glared slightly. "The dreams are a combination of events... missions in which I lost people, my friends, my teammates. My co-workers. But the players have changed."

"You see members of your team dying in their place," Heightmeyer guessed.

_And Weir, _Sheppard thought to himself, but he wouldn't admit that to the shrink. "Yeah."

"Are you afraid something will happen and you'll be unable to prevent a member of your team from dying?" Heightmeyer asked.

"No," Sheppard replied. "Where we are, what we do, it's dangerous. People are going to die. I can deal with that. I have to deal with that. I can't let my personal feelings for the people here on Atlantis interfere with my decision making. If that ever happens..." Sheppard paused. "If that ever happens, I'd have to stand down as Atlantis' military commander."

"All right," Heightmeyer agreed. "Then what are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid that one of us dying is inevitable and that, after it happens, I won't be able to live with myself. Before I came to Atlantis I had nothing. My family and I hadn't spoken in years, my friends were dead or separated from me by the gap between the Middle East and Antarctica and no one stays stationed at McMurdo for as long as I did. Nobody makes friends. I had just gotten used to being on my own when..."

"When suddenly you weren't? When suddenly there were people you cared about again?" Heightmeyer took the lack of response and Sheppard's blank expression as an affirmative. "Major, the moment you accept that you are going to lose someone, you _will_ lose someone."

"Never leave anyone behind," said Sheppard quietly.

"Yes."

Sheppard sat silently in the chair, thinking, and Heightmeyer let him. Finally he stood. "Thanks, Doc," he said, then he was out the door before Heightmeyer could say anything more.

Kate Heightmeyer sat behind her desk, unmoving, for five minutes after that, staring at her pad with the small amount of notes on it. If they ever got back to Earth and the military got their hands on this piece of paper, if they realized how close Sheppard had become to his team in so short a period of time - if they realized how very desperate Sheppard was to have someone, anyone, to care about - he would be taken out of Atlantis and shipped back to Earth and there was nothing anyone would be able to say to change that.

That would destroy John Sheppard as sure as if someone shot Aiden Ford in the head while he watched, helpless to prevent it.

She crumpled the notes and quietly disposed of them. He had come to her for help. The least she could do was provide it.


	6. Do No Harm

**Do No Harm**

TAG to Poisoning the Well

Doctor Carson Beckett sat hunched over his desk, pouring over the plethora of data he'd taken with him when he and Major Sheppard's team departed from Hoff. There was so much here, so much they had learned about the Wraith and how they fed on their prey. The relationship between the Wraith and their human prey was not one that Beckett, or anyone else for that matter, immediately understood.

Sheppard had taken the time to brief Beckett on everything he and Sergeant Bates had observed about their Wraith prisoner during his time in incarceration. His ability to induce hallucinations suggested some form of telepathy - the ability had grown weaker as the Wraith had gone without feeding, but it was still potent enough to cause Bates a number of headaches and nightmares over the weeks.

And Sheppard had discovered that either the Wraith couldn't eat their food or it refused to eat their food - and the second seemed unlikely, given how hungry the Wraith must have been in the last few days of its life. The Wraith's physiology suggested that it certainly could eat, but apparently that kind of food couldn't sate its hunger.

The information gathered on Hoff had taken all this to the next level. The amount he'd learned about the Wraith cell structure and how it was able to drain the energy out of the victim through the use of a potent enzyme secreted by the Wraith... it was incredible. And horrifying.

And none of it was enough to hold Beckett's interest for more than a few minutes. Hoff... Perna... what would become of those people? They had spent generations working towards the goal of victory, victory at any cost, and if Sheppard was right - and Beckett suspected that Teyla and Sheppard weren't wrong about how the Wraith would react to the Hoffan's newfound immunity - not only would they have given half their population as the price for gaining that immunity, but the remaining half would die for having it.

What was it all for? What had been accomplished, really? Oh, Beckett now had all the information that generations of Hoffans had struggled to achieve, but what did the Hoffans gain?

What did Perna gain? She had died at the hands of the vaccine that she had hoped to be her salvation. What was the bloody point of that?

Beckett blinked, then closed his eyes, bowing his head over the computer's keyboard. Everything that was held in its memory was the legacy of a people who had doomed themselves to destruction for achieving it. It was, in a sense, a gift of all the generations of the Hoffan people to him, Carson Beckett of Scotland.

He could not, he would not, allow all they had accomplished to be for nought. Something good would come of this, he would see to it. Something good _had _to.

Beckett forced his exhausted eyes open, locking them onto the screen of his laptop. It was blurry - was that the screen or his eyes? Maybe he should get a stimulant to help him focus... that would help. He had to keep working. There were answers here, he knew there were, there _had _to be...

Beckett started at the hand on his shoulder, tentatively shaking him. "Carson?" asked the mild alto of Elizabeth Weir. "Carson, it's late, you should go get some sleep."

"Ach, I need to keep working, it's not that late yet, love..." Beckett mumbled. "The key to stopping the Wraith is somewhere in this computer and I need to find it."

"Not tonight you don't, Carson. Come on, the data will be there tomorrow."

Beckett's eyes flew open as he returned to full awareness. "Elizabeth?" he asked, stumbling over her name. He turned and looked up into Weir's concerned face. "What are you doing up?"

"John thought that you might do something this, lock yourself away in the lab and work yourself to death," Weir admitted. "We agreed whoever was up last would check on you before they went to bed." She glanced at her wristwatch. "John went to his quarters almost three hours ago."

"I..." Beckett glanced down, realizing that he'd managed to make it through maybe two pages of information in the hours he'd been sitting in front of this computer screen. He'd accomplished nothing except increasing his guilt over the events that had taken place on Hoff. "I have to make sure something good comes of this, Elizabeth," he murmured. "They spent generations to develop this inoculation. I can't allow them to be forgotten, no matter the fate they find at the end of that path."

"Maybe you will, Carson," Weir soothed. "But not tonight."

"Aye," Carson sighed. "Not tonight." Weir helped him to his feet. Once he was standing, he stiffened and turned to Weir. "I broke my oath for this. First, do no harm! I killed two people in my own experiment. One being a Wraith is no excuse. First, do _no_ _harm_. That isn't exclusive to people I like." He flinched, recalling the dead and dying in the Hoffan hospital he had slaved in, trying to save as many lives as possible. "And thousands more are dead because I dared to help in the creation of the vaccine."

"Many may still live as a result of your work. The vaccine may not work now, but that doesn't mean it will never work. You have everything you need to continue the effort you began on Hoff," Weir tried to reassure him.

Beckett's face turned angry. "What I did was unforgivable!"

"I gave you permission to go ahead with it, Carson," Weir reminded him. Her lips were pressed together, her own guilt plain to see.

"How do we live with it?" Beckett asked, almost begging for an answer.

Weir paused, clearly struggling with how to answer that question for herself. "We do our best to see that, whatever the mistakes we might have made, that the future is better than the past. And we remember those we lost and honor their memory, as the Hoffans remembered their own past generations." She shrugged slightly. "And we keep doing the best we can."

"I hope our best is good enough," Beckett said quietly.

"It will be," Weir returned, her voice confident.

"Aye." Beckett sighed. "I'm going to go get a good night's sleep and return to this in the morning. And Miller is coming in tomorrow for the Ancient gene therapy."

Weir nodded, escorting Beckett to the door. He staggered slightly and caught the frame as he exited. "Easy, Carson," Weir said, catching him.

"I need a drink," Beckett groaned.

"Sleep," Weir said, adding the undertones that usually came with orders. She helped him down the hall to the transporter, Beckett's fatigue and grief finally catching up to him, his body and mind shutting down. She made sure to get him to his quarters, making sure he was securely inside before heading off on her way back towards her own quarters.

She would have to remember to make Beckett talk to Heightmeyer sometime in the next few days. While a good night's sleep would help mitigate some of his problems, she doubted Beckett would bounce back so quickly. He would need help and support - his guilt and grief were both genuine and, as she had witnessed tonight, could be paralyzing if he didn't deal with them. Carson was the best there was and she needed him on the top of his game.

Her shoulder slumped once she was back in the transporter, headed back to her own quarters. She would have to deal with her own as well, she knew.

When she'd joined the SGC, after President Hayes had recruited her to the program with a seven-minute briefing and interview and hundreds of mission reports that couldn't _possibly _be true, but _were_... she had been so confident in her moral uprightness. God knew she had presided over a hundred impossible negotiations but she had almost always managed to find a way to make all the sides happy - a peaceful compromise, one that didn't require the American military to increase its spending budget.

And so, one of the first things she did at the SGC was ask if negotiating with Anubis was an option. She could still remember Jack O'Neill's ludicrous expression and unrestrained snort of disbelief, followed by his characteristic _"Oh for crying out loud...",_ Samantha Carter's eyes rolling as she turned subtly to O'Neill, Teal'c's blank yet somehow resigned expression, and Daniel Jackson's groan - he managed to subdue it to the point where it was almost undetectable, but she'd known it was there. Thinking back, her innocence and utter inability to comprehend the magnitude of the threat, the pure, sadistic nature of the enemy they were facing... she seemed awfully innocent and clueless given what she had seen and heard in the time that had followed.

Thinking back on that conversation... she had described a situation in which a half Ascended Goa'uld was planning to destroy the entire human race with a fleet of alien warships and all they had to oppose it was a single spaceship, a group of advanced fighters, and Jack O'Neill's slowly morphing mind: _"Obviously this is a situation of grave importance," _she had said. _"What about negotiating?"_

At the time, an enemy like the Goa'uld, an enemy like the Wraith, was simply incomprehensible to her. In every negotiation she had ever presided over she had searched desperately for common ground that could be exploited to achieve peace. Now...

Now she was willing to let her CMO sacrifice a terminally ill man to a life-sucking alien vampire in order to discover a means to defeat said race of life-sucking alien vampires. She was willing to kill a prisoner of war.

_"Who are you? Really. And why _are _you here?" _Jack O'Neill had asked her. At the time she had known who she was. And why she was there. Or she thought she had.

Now... who was she? Really. And why _was _she here?

It was getting harder and harder for her to answer that question.

She wasn't the pacifistic, optimistic woman who believed that every problem could be solved with a kind word and a minor concession. That woman had been lost forever during her abrupt negotiations with the Goa'uld and the recognition that, despite whatever she had believed before she joined the SGC, there really was something akin to pure evil out there in the universe.

But even after that point she hadn't lost her morality. No matter what _they _did, she would never allow herself to stoop so low as to adopt their means to defeat them. Military force, men like John Sheppard and Jack O'Neill and the protection they offered, the services they rendered, might well be necessary. But what she had allowed Beckett to do, what she had allowed the Hoffans to do, was something quite different.

She'd compromised her morality, what had been her constant source of strength over the years. She'd allowed the impending threat of death and worse to override what she had believed to be right - what she had known to be right.

And damned if she wasn't sure she would make the same decision again if she had to.

What was that Nietzsche quote? _When you stare into the Abyss, the Abyss stares back into you._

How far would she go to ensure the survival of Atlantis, of the people who served under her command? How many of her principles was she willing to sacrifice on the altar of self-preservation?

Damn it, who the hell _was_ she? And why _was _she here?

She had come to Atlantis to learn, to discover, and to bring that knowledge back to Earth. Instead she had found herself embroiled in a war, a conflict which she likely could not win. The lessons Teyla had taught her in the short time she'd known the other woman were incredibly illuminating - sometimes she would have to sacrifice the few so that the rest may live. Sometimes she would allow her concerns about security to override her belief in free speech and equal rights. Sometimes she would let Sheppard go in, guns blazing.

But she would be damned if she lost sight of what was right in the universe, what separated her and her people from the Wraith. They were so consumed by their hunger, their drive for self-preservation, that they had sacrificed _everything_, their entire identity, to it. She would not. She would die first.

She wasn't here to fight a war. That was an unfortunate consequence, although it was one she reluctantly accepted as unavoidable. She was here to learn, to discover, and to explore. She was still Doctor Elizabeth Weir, diplomat first. She wouldn't carry a gun, no matter how much John pressed her to do so.

She would no longer make the mistake of asking if she could negotiate with pure evil, as she had months before. But she would also not be consumed by the fight against that evil.

Exiting the transporter that led out into the senior staff quarters, she slowed her pace as she heard quiet laughter and murmurs coming from the rec room. She recognized the voices when she got closer - Ford's youthful exuberance and Teyla's more mature calm, quiet words passing between the two. Curious, she stopped outside the lounge and glanced inside.

Ford was lounging carelessly on the far side of the couch, Teyla sitting adjacent to him, listening intently as he described the rules that governed the game of football. In a good sized easy chair across the way Sheppard was sleeping quietly, his head pressed up against the side of the chair, one leg strewn over the chair's arm.

Weir smiled, leaning up against the door frame and listening as Ford and Teyla watched one of Sheppard's college game recordings. "And the men who line up on the line for each play... they are called linebackers?"

Ford grinned. "And they're as disciplined as any military force," he said.

"Why do they not instead join the military?" Teyla asked. "Do you not need as many soldiers as you can get?"

"Well, if you're good at a sport, you can make lots more money playing professionally than you would get from a military pension," Ford said. "When I was in high school I played baseball and basketball and had dreams of going pro someday, but I was never good enough."

"Baseball?" Teyla asked.

"If you think football is complicated, you'll find baseball positively byzantine," Weir commented from the doorway, entering the room and stopping adjacent to Sheppard's chair. She glanced down at the Major, smiling slightly at his careless posture before returning her focus to Teyla. "Baseball is unnecessarily complicated."

"Baseball is great!" Ford exclaimed. "There is no better sport. The true American pastime."

Teyla shook her head. "The amount of time and effort your world must expend on recreation seems excessive," she said with mild disbelief.

Weir shrugged. "Most of the people of our world have no idea what is really out there. Their biggest concern is which team wins the Super Bowl or the World Series."

Ford sighed dramatically. "I hope we reestablish contact with Earth in time to watch the next World Series."

Weir laughed. "I hope we regain contact far sooner than that, Lieutenant. And for different reasons."

Next to her, Sheppard stirred. "It's all about the Orange Bowl," he groused, stretching out and pulling himself back to an upright position. Then he yawned widely and cocked his head at Weir. "Evening, Doctor."

"Good evening, John."

Sheppard gestured at the television. "Who won?" he asked, directing the question at Ford.

"Michigan, sir, as you already knew."

"Ah... true," Sheppard allowed. "That one was a great game, though." He glanced at his watch and his eyes widened, his head tilting upwards to look at Weir. "What are you still doing awake?"

"I had to put Carson to bed," Weir said, reminding Sheppard of their earlier decision to check on the Doctor before they each went to sleep.

"That's right, I knew that," Sheppard agreed. Then he turned to Ford and Teyla. "Where's McKay?"

Ford raised his hands in a gesture that communicated helplessness. "He said something about having seen this one already and cheerleaders and went off on his way after the half."

"Hm," Sheppard replied absently, yawning again. He stood. "I need to get some sleep," He glanced mournfully at the empty bowl on the table between the couch and the television. "We finished off the popcorn, didn't we?" he asked. "Damn."

Weir glanced over at him. "We're running low on coffee too," she said.

"No wonder McKay went to bed early," Sheppard replied. "It'll take him the better part of the morning to get up without his daily dose of instant caffeine."

"I find it hard to understand your infatuation with that drink," Teyla commented. "Given enough time and you can no longer function without it."

Sheppard's eyes widened and he turned and glanced at Ford. "You know what we need?" he asked semi-excitedly. "Beer."

Weir rolled her eyes. "John."

He shrugged, unapologetic. "I think we all could use one once in a while." Then he gestured to the door. "Okay people, I'm calling it a night. I'll see the lot of you in the morning and we can... plan something." Teyla nodded to him and Ford tossed a half wave, so Sheppard turned and headed out of the lounge. Weir followed.

"Carson will be all right, but we should keep an eye on him," she noted, lengthening her stride to match his. She could feel him tense at the reminder of their last mission. "You did all you could, John."

"I gave them the means to destroy themselves and just sat back and watched as they set their own destruction in motion. I'd say I screwed up pretty bad."

"Some good may yet come of this," she reminded him. "Carson brought back all the research. Maybe he can fix the problems with it."

Sheppard just shook his head. "Maybe."

Weir stopped, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to a stop. "We both made mistakes, John. No one made a bigger mistake than I when I let you take the Wraith and experiment on it."

Sheppard grabbed her eyes with his. "That wasn't a mistake. If you had known it would kill him then maybe, _maybe _it would have been a mistake. But that... creature... was _evil. _Pure, unrelenting malice and consumed with the drive to not only take our lives, but _steal _them away like some kind of mindless, hungry beast. Even in its final moments its only thought was to strike out against us." He shook his head violently. "No, Doctor. That wasn't a mistake. We need every weapon we can get our hands on against the Wraith and they wouldn't hesitate if the situations were reversed."

"Isn't that what is supposed to make us better than them?"

"What makes us better than them is that we have a _conscience. _I don't think they can even _comprehend_ guilt."

Weir stiffened. _That _was what she had been struggling with, the line between her own actions and those of the Wraith, what kept her from becoming the evil that she knew the Wraith embodied. She knew the a actions she had taken were wrong and had only taken them because they were facing annihilation. For the Wraith it would have been a matter of course.

Sheppard nodded as understanding flashed across her face. "You know, the last thing the Wraith told me before he died was not to feel pity for him. Despite myself, I did. I do. But had our positions been reversed, it would _never _have felt pity for me."

"Right," Weir whispered. "But how far can we delve into the moral ambiguities of our situation before we fall prey to that which we despise?"

"Think about this." Sheppard's voice was a harsh staccato, forceful and borderline violent. "If someday we did fix the Hoffan vaccine so that it didn't kill the user and wouldn't kill a Wraith who tried to feed on someone who'd taken it, then inoculated every human in all of Pegasus with it, we'd be committing genocide. Because the Wraith can't survive unless they feed and every last one of them would die. How's that for moral ambiguity?"

Weir shuddered. If given the chance to save every human life in Pegasus, she would. She would use the vaccine, no questions asked. And in doing so, she would kill an entire race. What did that say about the now somehow minor violation of experimenting on a prisoner? "Maybe we could find a way to remove their need to feed," she protested weakly.

"And why in God's name should we do that? For more than ten thousand years they have harvested and fed on the human race. Don't you think they all deserve whatever fate might come to them?" He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space. "If I had a little red button that wiped the Wraith out of existence, I'd press it. They threaten everything that I care about just because of what they are. And they don't deserve any better."

"I don't know if I could do that, John," Weir admitted.

"Then, hopefully, if it comes to that, it'll be a military decision and you'll let me make it," Sheppard said flatly. His eyes softened at the turmoil he recognized in hers and he reached out and grasped her arm. "Hey. My job is to protect, remember? The Wraith aren't delusional, or warped by their leaders, or anything that can be changed by talking with them. They're biologically dependent on consuming human beings. That's just what they are. Don't forget that, okay?" Weir nodded and Sheppard glanced down at his watch, then grimaced. "God, now I'm too wired to get any sleep. I'm going to go for a run."

Ford and Teyla both came out of the lounge behind them, Teyla's eyes casually evaluating them both. Ford frowned slightly. "Still awake, sir?"

"Unfortunately. I'm a little too awake to sleep right now. Want to come for a run?"

Ford eyed him oddly. "It's a little late for that, sir, isn't it?"

Sheppard shrugged. "I'll go alone then." He turned and jogged down the corridor towards the end of the hall. Ford glanced first at Teyla, then Weir, then shrugged himself and ran off after his CO.

Teyla stopped next to Weir, who was still standing still in the hall. "You worry about the decisions you have made, whether they were right and just," she said knowingly.

"Yes," Weir admitted. Her indecision was not something she would show casually, but John was one person she trusted with it. Teyla had immediately recognized it in her, despite her best efforts to hide it, and admitting it to the Athosian cost her nothing.

"You should not," Teyla said. "You must balance the good of your people against your own moral code. Sometimes the one will compromise the other, that is inevitable and in the nature of being a leader of many."

"I know. I just didn't think I would have to make these decisions when I came out here. I didn't think I would have to walk the dark road and stare into the Abyss. I knew there were dangers, but the Wraith..." Weir shuddered. "The Wraith could destroy not only us, but everything. Everyone. Everywhere."

"Walk the road you must to protect us all," Teyla murmured, hers a soft voice tinged with leadership and a normally subdued commanding presence. "We will stand by you. You do not stand alone."

"Thank you, Teyla," Weir replied. "But sometimes I wonder if John agrees with that."

Teyla smiled. "John would walk through fire for you, as he would for any of us. So long as it is his own life he risks, he would risk it willingly for any of our own. And so long as it is his own soul he sacrifices, he would do it willingly to spare any of ours. Especially your own."

Weir stopped in shock. "Why mine?"

"I think sometimes John sees you as an innocent in a world that is not suited to protect that innocence. His is a life already tainted by decisions that have cost others their lives, he would willingly take it upon himself to carry your burden as well as his own, if he could."

For a second, Weir's first response was anger. How _dare _John Sheppard think that his life had taught him more about the dark side of the universe than he own! She may not have seen combat, but she had seen death and destruction! She knew!

But she hadn't really, not until she joined the SGC. Not until she was faced with an enemy so implacable, so malicious, that he would destroy the entire human race in an instant if he could. Anubis and the Goa'uld had been a shock that she was, perhaps, still recovering from. The Wraith...

"I'm not sure if I should be grateful or furious," she admitted.

Teyla laughed. "Just be glad that he is here."

Teyla had a point. Losing John would be devastating. Although they sometimes clashed, she relied on him so much, his experience and his candor valuable tools that she was always grateful to have. She needed him.

More than that, he was her friend. On Atlantis, she did not have the luxury of having many friends. Sheppard was one and his somehow pure devotion to Atlantis, it's people, and her, given freely of his own accord and for which he asked nothing in return, was something that had been a comfort ever since she arrived. Sometimes it was her only comfort. She was so far from home, from Simon, and she had no idea if she would ever return home. And she held no illusions about what could be waiting if she did.

"Why does he do it?" she asked.

Teyla's face lost all measure of levity. "I do not know," she said. "I do not know if even he does."

"How can we repay him?" Weir returned. "He cannot take all the burdens, he knows this, and he knows that I would get _so _angry at him if he tried, so he doesn't try. And yet... he would, if he could."

A small smiled returned to Teyla's face. "Do not try to stop him when he chooses to risk his life in place of our own." Teyla grinned now. "John knows that I would hurt him badly if he ever tried to take me off of the battlefield, and I would never think to stop him from doing his own duty." Then her face again was stoic. "And care about him as he cares about us."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

In the morning, when Sheppard entered the control room, his hair even more uncontrolled than it was normally, and his face showing all the classic signs of lack of sleep, Weir chose not to comment. Ford was surprisingly awake, given how late he'd probably been up the previous night as well.

They all sat, listening intently as McKay briefed them on various new city functions they had discovered over the course of the last month and a half. He and Sheppard exchanged much of their customary banter, tossing half-insults and expressions of disgust or amusement at one another as had become their habit. Then he moved on to Doctor Gaul's research regarding the system's artifacts - Brendan Gaul had been a friend and coworker of McKay's before they each joined the SGC and was an expert at working with long-range telescopes and was systematically mapping the planetary system Atlantis was located in, searching for anything that the Ancients might have left behind.

"It's be great if he found a big space-gun," Sheppard put in, grinning as McKay rolled his eyes.

"I know that's all you think about, Major, the big guns that can make big explosions, but believe it or not there are things in the universe that are interesting even if they _don't _have military applications," McKay retorted.

Sheppard shrugged. "I'd be _nice." _

"Of _course_ it would." Then McKay changed the topic abruptly, moving on to Zelenka's work on the jumpers and Pederson's research into Atlantis' computer functions and Dumais' mapping of the east and west piers and, despite herself, Weir's focus waned.

Her mind was drawn to two comments. _"I know that's all you think about, Major, the big guns that make big explosions," _of McKay and one of Sheppard's comments the night before: _"Hey, my job is to protect, remember?" _

Teyla had said that a leader had to balance morality against the needs of her people. Maybe John would always been the voice that tended towards protection of the people, while hers was the voice of morality. Maybe they would balance each other and, together, protect these people.

One thing was certain: she didn't just trust John Sheppard with her own life, she trusted him with Rodney McKay's, and Radek Zelenka's, and Peter Grodin's, and Kate Heightmeyer's, and the lives of every single member of this expedition. And that was the highest praise she had to offer.

Teyla said the two things John needed in return for all that he gave to Atlantis were to be allowed to do his job - something she would never deny him, seeing as how reliant she was on him doing his job - and to be cared about as she knew he cared about each of them. And that too was something she could give him.


	7. Doomsday Pending

**Doomsday Pending**

_TAG to Underground_

It wasn't a sound, exactly, that alerted Lieutenant Ford to the presence in the training room adjacent to the military-grade weight room. It was still early in the afternoon, so someone working out there wasn't out of the ordinary, but he was generally found working out himself around this hour (when he wasn't offworld) and knew for a fact that the room was generally unoccupied.

He used it himself, on occasion, but tended not to spend much time there. While versed in basic unarmed combat, he preferred to hone his skills with the military-grade weapons that he was most at home with. And, unlike Major Sheppard, he had little to no interest in learning about various combat styles for their own sake.

The sounds from the training room were barely a whisper, a hint of motion that he could feel even though he couldn't see the occupant. A silent whistle as the air split to accommodate an arm, a leg, or an extension thereof like a sword or a staff.

Curious, Ford wrapped his towel over his shoulders, the ends hanging down in front of his chest, and tilted his head over to see inside.

Teyla didn't register his presence at all, her eyes closed and limbs moving precisely through a training kata. There was a hint of acceleration before her right arm lanced out, strictly parallel to the ground, whistling around in a blow that would have laid Ford out. Her left arm whirled around, mere instants behind, and Teyla flung herself into the turn, her body twirling around as the two fighting-sticks maimed invisible opponents. She stopped suddenly, as if on a dime, one leg posed to strike while her weight rested comfortably on her back foot. Then her left arm, leading this time, whirled around in a downward swing that would have made professional pitchers jealous, stopping instantly as it reached her waist.

Ford, realizing that even if Teyla had realized he was there that she wouldn't respond to his presence until after she was well and ready to do so, leaned comfortably against the wall of the training room as Teyla continued her kata, a whirling dervish that Ford watched, slightly nervous that she would unconsciously take several steps in his direction. He probably wouldn't have time to respond, given the power she was displaying, and would undoubtedly end up flat on his back with yet another concussion if she hit him even once.

Finally she slowed, her movements becoming even more meticulous and precise, her velocity slowing in a steady, progressive fashion until she reached a full stop. Then her eyes slowly came open, her hands fell to her sides, and she breathed out a single long breath, as if releasing whatever tension she had not already banished.

Then she smiled, a restrained smile that communicated greetings. "Aiden."

"Ah... I'm glad I've never been the target of that," Ford said, gesturing slightly in her direction.

"It is not as difficult, or dangerous, as it appears with no opponent," Teyla replied. "Major Sheppard has successfully countered me several times since we began training together although..." Teyla's face took on a slight frown, "I do not believe he has been practicing as much as he should."

"The Major has got plenty of other things on his mind," Ford defended. "What with all the missions he has to plan and approve, evaluating the threat posed by the Wraith, and now the Genii I guess, most of the exercise he gets is in the field."

Teyla's face darkened at the reminder of the Genii and Ford cursed himself silently. She had taken the disastrous failure of the embryonic alliance - and the death of a man she had considered a friend for more than twenty years, even if she had never really known him - both as a personal failure and betrayal.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," Ford commented, attempting to provide whatever reassurance he could. "The Genii planned to turn on us the entire time, that's why they wanted the C4 before we left to go on the mission. You couldn't have known they would."

"Perhaps. The fact remains that of all of the people who live on Atlantis, I was one of the few who had previous experience with the Genii and I led our people into a trap."

"C'mon, Teyla! Without McKay's scanning equipment there's no way you could have realized that the Genii were hiding a major military complex underground! You had no reason at all to suspect! They made sure of that."

Teyla turned away, switching both fighting sticks into her right hand before kneeling down to put them away. Ford, realizing that he wouldn't convince her of his point, at least not right then, sighed heavily, craning his neck slightly to look down on her. "You know I'm right," he said pointedly, not surprised when she declined to respond. Ford nodded to himself. "All right. I'm going to go for a run for a while around the city, then I'll be in the range practicing with the Wraith weapons we've captured. If you'd like, you're free to join me." Taking the time to shoot Teyla's back one last, resigned glance, Ford turned and jogged out of the room.

It was kind of Aiden to try, Teyla reflected, but it would be some time before she forgave herself for the Genii disaster. She had visited their world on dozens of occasions over the course of two decades and never even suspected that there might be more to the low-tech farmer culture than was immediately visible on the surface.

They were, she granted, exceptionally good at hiding who and what they were, to the point of putting themselves (and their guests) through all the ceremonial procedures that a more technologically developed culture generally abandoned. Such masking of their true nature was necessary if they were to hide from the Wraith as they had for so long.

And yet, it had taken Major Sheppard and Doctor McKay less than a day to discern their true natures. Probably due to Sheppard's seemingly irresistible impulse to be contrary whenever possible. That habit of the Major's was one that got his team into trouble on more than one occasion - but the benefits he reaped from his quiet yet constant suspicion combined with his unerring drive to find anything and everything that could possibly be used to save Atlantis from the inevitable invasion by the Wraith more than made up for the consequences.

On the Genii world all it had taken to discover their secret was Sheppard taking a path off the beaten road and McKay following along, his ever-present sensor device in hand.

Teyla herself had never even considered the possibility that other humans might be enemies. To her, through the years of her life she had but one enemy: the Wraith. Moreover, the Wraith were an enemy shared by all, hated by all, and collaboration with them was not only unthinkable, but impossible. Yet, Major Sheppard had carefully planted lies in amongst the truths he told the Genii as a precaution against betrayal. At the time, she had believed both his and the actions of the Genii to be gravely in error. As she had told Sora, and as she still believed, they could only stand against the Wraith if they did so together.

Yet, the still stood alone. And the only reason they still stood at all was because of those careful precautions Sheppard had been sure to take.

Those she had joined were unlike any who had lived amongst her own stars for millennia. They matched constant vigilance, something that she and her own people were altogether too familiar with, with constant suspicion of any and everything, a constant drive to better themselves and their understanding of the universe, a strange but constant drive for material goods (and yet the willingness to sacrifice those goods if it came time to do so - the almost impossible combination of greed, selfish desires like those displayed by McKay, Kavanaugh, and others on occasion, and yet the willingness to sacrifice for others was one that she still found difficult to reconcile), and, especially, their constant and stubborn resistance to the idea that sacrificing their beliefs and the comrades for the overall benefit of the whole...

They were a strange yet compelling people.

The Genii did not display the characteristics offered by the Atlantians. They had been driven by fear to betray those who would have willingly called them allies and stood in defense of their world alongside them when the time came. Perhaps, had her world and her galaxy developed as the Atlantians' world had - as Earth had - with the luxuries that the Wraith had never allowed them to afford, things would have been different.

But the circumstances were not different. While Major Sheppard and Doctor Weir were, despite themselves, allowing themselves to compromise to meet the harsh realities posed by what they called the Pegasus galaxy, they still represented an idealized version of what it meant to be human that had been lost when the Ancestors fled Atlantis. They were, more than any other people from this part of the universe, truly representative of what she believed to be the legacy of the Ancestors.

She had received no censure for her failure with the Genii. Sheppard had just shrugged and said he hoped for better luck next time, Ford had tried his best to convince her that what had happened was not her fault, McKay had not spoken of it at all, and Weir had ignored the missions mistakes to focus instead on the missions repercussions.

And that, Teyla knew, was why she was so upset about the failures of their previous mission. She was shocked by the Genii's betrayal and upset at the collapse of the alliance and did indeed blame herself in large part for allowing things to get so far out of control... but the revelation that the Wraith had upwards of sixty hive ships, any one of which could likely destroy the weakened Atlantis almost as an afterthought, had truly shook her.

For all that they were a strange people, the Atlantians had demonstrated time and again that they were capable of resisting the Wraith, something which made them an asset that her people had never had. And, better yet, they were good people. She had taken her hopes and placed them squarely in their hands, leaving her people and joining them of her own volition to do whatever she could to help them rise to meet the coming tide of death and destruction that would herald the return of the Wraith.

But sixty ships... what chance did they have? What chance did any of them have? Would the Wraith not simply swat Atlantis back down under the sea, from where it had risen, so that the dreams offered by the legacy of the Ancestors would never see light again? What hope would her people have after that?

Major Sheppard and Doctor Weir offered hope to her people and she had grasped it as tightly as she could, pulling it close and holding it dear to her heart, a warmth and comfort that she had never been able to afford before. The revelation offered by the Genii mission had dimmed that dream, quieted her hopes, and restored to her the fear that she had resisted.

But, Teyla resolved, if anyone could find a way...

Even if they could not, she had not just found allies with whom she was proud to fight against the Wraith. She had found friends. Even family. From the strange combination of seemingly ancient military wisdom and skill and childlike recklessness and abandon of John Sheppard; to Aiden Ford's endless trust in his leaders and quiet, almost invisible fear that he would not live up to the standards that they set for him - and his irrational, and yet perfectly normal, fear that Sheppard, Weir, McKay, and Teyla herself saw him as little more than a child in an officer's uniform; to Rodney McKay's strange habits but undeniable brilliance (and his slowing growing bravery and conscience as they survived against the odds time and again); to finally Elizabeth Weir's pure strength of will that held all of them together, she had found in Atlantis a home to replace the one she had lost.

Even living amongst the Athosians, her own people, she had been a leader and, in that way, something of an outsider. She had been an outsider at first on Atlantis as well, and there were moments (especially when faced with Sergeant Bates) that she was strongly reminded that these were not her people. But with those she was closest to there was never any question about her acceptance.

At the door to the exercise room Ford appeared, having changed into a running outfit and bouncing from foot to foot, practically humming with restrained energy. "You coming?"

Teyla carefully placed her equipment back where it belonged, then she rose to her full hight and smiled, a genuine smile, perhaps the first one she had worn since Tyrus had died. Ford, knowing that meant acceptance, grinned back at her and jogged out of sight.

Teyla tested her legs momentarily, taking a second to loosen up, before chasing after him.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Rodney McKay shuffled through the control room, nodding absently at the concerned glance offered by Peter Grodin before stumbling into a chair placed idly alongside one of the consoles he often worked from.

"Sixty," he muttered to himself. "Of course. Anything less than _impossible _would be too easy."

After their return to Atlantis from the Genii mission and their intelligence recovery mission to the Wraith hive ship, he had scampered off to get some sleep and food, leaving the Wraith data device in Grodin's hands, not really expecting the other scientist to retrieve any useful information before he got a crack at it the next morning.

Grodin hadn't recovered much, not nearly the overall extent of the data held by the device, but he'd recovered enough to almost give McKay a heart attack. McKay, still holding the Wraith device, set it carefully down on the console and leaned over, pressing his forehead into the keyboard.

"Rodney?" Grodin asked, concerned. "Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not _all right,_" McKay replied, his voice antagonistic. "None of us are _all right, _Peter. Not you, not me, not Elizabeth, not Carson, not even Sheppard!" McKay exploded back to his feet, the chair he was sitting on skidding backwards as Grodin's head shot around to stare at him, the decibel level in the control room falling considerably as motion stilled and heads turned to regard McKay.

McKay grimaced, waving his hand. "I'm all right," he tried to reassure Grodin. "I'm all... oh forget it." He quickly turned and fled into Weir's vacant office, Grodin's eyes following him as he quickly made his way past her desk and through the exit at the back of her office onto the balcony.

She was there, leaned over the railing, staring out across the stilled waters, watching the slowly descending star that Lantea orbited. At the noise McKay made exiting her office she turned and, concerned, took a step forward. McKay's face wore a look of barely subdued horror. "Sixty?" he asked, the pitch of his voice rising even through the word's two syllables. "_Sixty?_"

Weir's face stayed calm, although she knew how he felt. It wasn't that long ago that she'd had the same conversation with Sheppard here on the balcony. "I would rather know than not," she replied, consciously mimicking Sheppard's words from earlier. They hadn't been intended to reassure her but Sheppard, in his own way, had. He was right, it was better to know what they were up against.

"It's better to know than not?" McKay asked, voice antagonistic. "Who came up with that bit of nonsense, Sheppard?" McKay pointed at her, finger waving. "Unlike the members of our vaunted military, Elizabeth, I'm one of those people who would rather die in my sleep, not knowing what killed me!"

Weir's face turned stoney. "We're not dead yet, Rodney," she commanded.

Rodney didn't bother to respond, pacing from post to post on the balcony, one finger idly tracing his lower lip. "Not dead yet... true, I suppose," he murmured. "But we're going to be sooner or later unless we find some way to convince the Wraith to just leave us alone, and the chance of that happening is approximately equivalent to Samantha Carter agreeing to marry me!" He stopped, suddenly, hand dropping from his face. He sighed. "Sixty?" he asked again, voice bordering on desperate.

Weir nodded. "Sixty. Or more."

"Well, once you break, I dunno, the half-dozen marker anything extra is just overkill. We're not even capable of taking out _one _hive ship, much less _sixty._" McKay pointed out, not noticing as a slight strain appeared in Weir's face. The same thought had occurred to her, but it wasn't something she cared to be reminded of. McKay stopped pacing again and turned to face her once more. "We _really _need a ZedPM, Elizabeth. Like, really need one."

"We've just got to keep doing what we're doing, Rodney. We'll get our hands on one eventually."

"Before or after we're all turned into some Wraith's midday snack?" McKay shot back.

Weir stepped forward, grasping McKay's shoulder. "Rodney, _we'll find a way._"

McKay nodded. "Right. Of course. We'll find a way. Somehow." Then he shook his head in disbelief, headed back off of the balcony. "A miracle. We need another miracle."

Weir watched him go then turned back to the sun. It was still late afternoon, not evening, but it had descended quite a distance since she had returned to the balcony, basking in the brilliant colors. Rodney was right, of course, they needed a miracle. But, really, how different was that from the situation they'd already been in? And, as Sheppard had been quick to point out, the ships were out there and coming whether they'd known about them or not. It was far better to know than not to know.

But even Sheppard had seemed resigned after Grodin had briefed them on the initial findings from the Wraith device. He had been quick to point out that, whatever the information was, it was better to have it than not to have it, but he had ended their earlier conversation with the vain hope that the Wraith wouldn't all come at once.

They were, Weir realized, in the same situation as the Ancients had been in ten millennia before. They had, in some small way with access to Atlantis, superior technology - assuming they could find McKay a ZPM to get it all working - but they lacked the kind of numbers that would be necessary to resist the Wraith even with all the Ancient technology. They, as the Ancients before them, could win a battle, but could never win a war. Not so long as the conditions remained unchanged.

For the life of her, she couldn't think of a way to chance the conditions to make them more favorable.

But she was Doctor Elizabeth Weir, head of the Atlantis expedition, so she put up the brave front, letting it falter only when dealing with John or Teyla. With John she needed to know exactly what he thought and she needed him to know exactly what she thought. Their ability to communicate was crucial.

The flirting which had been such a part of their earlier relationship had waned some. Oh, John would still make suggestive comments and she would still willingly participate whenever it seemed appropriate (which, given their relationship as the two major authority positions on Atlantis, really should have been never, but she indulged herself anyway), but both of them had become increasingly consumed with their jobs. Recent revelations about the nature of the Wraith threat would, no doubt, further dampen whatever levity the two of them had been able to find with one another, and that was too bad. John, more than a sounding board and a friend, was the only person on Atlantis she knew who was consistently able to make the constant pressure of their tenuous situation abate, even for a short time.

She was sometimes unsure of exactly where the two of them stood in the command structure. She knew she viewed him as almost an equal, although of course not an equal, but sometimes she wondered if he really trusted her to make the decisions on Atlantis. They didn't clash seriously often, although they had minor debates on an almost daily basis (and when they didn't have serious debates, John was sure to start some kind of joke debate - he continued to send requests that he knew she would dismiss out of hand, like his earlier request to train all the scientists with firearms. More recently he had asked if they could take a complement of the extra stores and build a battleship, something that had made her smile before she threw it away.) When they did clash, however, their spats took on an almost personal level despite their strictly professional nature.

Teyla was always able to see through Weir's mask, so attempting to hide her true feelings from the Athosian was an exercise in futility.

Other than John and Teyla, though, Weir wore her carefully constructed mask. This balcony - Weir breathed in slowly, the sun still making its slow motion down towards the horizon - was one of the only places where she was comfortable letting it slip.

Rodney needed the mask - although he understood better than anyone what they were up against, there was something about the unrelenting belief that both Weir and Sheppard carried with them that seemed to give him the strength to come up with those final alternatives in situations that appeared helpless.

Carson was a similar case to Rodney - the two men got along quite well, probably because their fields of expertise were so drastically different that they had almost no professional relationship and thus no place where they might clash. They were both brilliant, in their own way, although Rodney was brilliant and he knew it while Carson was a study in self-doubt. McKay never doubted himself, he doubted the situation and whether _anyone_ could _ever_ find a way out of it; Beckett always doubted himself, always positive that there _was_ a solution that he was simply unable to see. Both attitudes were dangerous in their own way and Weir's unyielding confidence in both men (although displayed drastically differently to each, as the last thing McKay needed was an ego boost) helped carry them through their more difficult situations.

The military men, like Ford and Bates, didn't need her confidence for their own sake - she needed it for when she dealt with them. Even when she dealt with Sheppard she felt the need not to show her uncertainty when she made decisions. She didn't think that there was any risk of a coup or anything equally ridiculous, but there had always been something about the military that intimidated her. She responded to it by standing up as tall as she could and staring it defiantly in the face, although there were times that she just wanted to cower before the guns and let someone else handle the chaos.

Now that they knew there were enough Wraith ships out there that they could pound Atlantis to dust even if the city had been fully operational, she needed her confidence - feigned and otherwise - even more.

So she took her fear and boxed it up, hiding it away until such time that she could confront it without having it jeopardize her standing as Atlantis' expedition commander. The threat of annihilation was nothing new, she reminded herself. It had just never been quite this real before.

She sighed, turning away from the still setting sun and walking back into her office. She glanced at her computer screen, noting the list of immediate concerns that she had yet to address. Sergeant Bates had solved most of their food issue and, with Teyla's help negotiating smaller deals with other worlds, they would be able to put that particular concern behind them (although McKay would have to make do with tea instead of coffee for the foreseeable future). Food. That had been her single biggest worry at the start of the day and now...

Weir closed her laptop firmly, feeling it latch shut securely and the soft hum of the machine quieted. There was nothing more she could do tonight, she simply didn't have the necessary focus or concentration. Tomorrow she would return to it.

Exiting the office, she passed by Grodin and McKay, together analyzing the station's power grid in an attempt to find some way they might get the shields up with nothing but their handful of naquadah generators. They were, judging from their expressions, not having any luck, but it reassured her that the expedition still had quite a bit of life left in it.

With that thought in mind, and her stomach pointedly reminding her that she hadn't eaten since much earlier in the day and that she wasn't dead yet and still needed to eat, she headed off to the mess to try some of the Menarian crops that Bates had brought home.


	8. Home Away From Home

**Home Away From Home**

_TAG to Home_

The five members of the Atlantis team sent in the hopes of sending a message - or a person - back to Earth strode comfortably through the Stargate, returning from the aborted attempt back to Atlantis.

Sergeant Bates was five paces in front of them standing in the center of the room, flanked by two airmen. A pace behind him was Sergeant Stackhouse. All four of them were geared up, Bates' pistol still holstered but Stackhouse resting a P90 in his hands. The relief on Stackhouse's face was reflected in that of most of the other people crewing the control room. On the balcony, Peter Grodin and Radek Zelenka looked down, Zelenka wearing his trademark slight frown while Grodin's face was entirely neutral except for his eyebrows, tilted towards one another in a vague mask of concern.

Bates stepped forward. "What happened, sir?" he asked, directing the question to Sheppard.

Sheppard shrugged and started to respond, but Weir cut him off. "It turned out our power source was coming at the cost of the native life forms on the planet. They defended themselves but once we managed to open a dialogue they agreed to let us leave, so long as we promised not to return." She turned slightly up to face Grodin. "Peter, lock M5S-224 out of our dialing program in the control room. We'll have to lock it out of each of the jumper dialing devices individually."

Grodin nodded. "I'll get right on it."

Stackhouse's expression was one of resignation. "So we didn't get a message through to Earth?"

"I am afraid that was impossible," Teyla replied. "Doing so would have killed thousands of the entities that inhabit that world." Stackhouse nodded, his disappointment clear.

"I thought 224 was uninhabited," Bates interjected.

"Well, mist doesn't exactly register as a life form on my scanners. Does it register on yours?" McKay glowered at Bates. "I guess they're not quite non-corporeal but they come close." He paused, tilting his head and catching Weir's eye. "I wonder how much mist constitutes one of the aliens versus another?" he contemplated.

"How long have we been missing, Sergeant?" Sheppard deliberately cut off McKay, preventing an extended tangent.

"We went almost twelve hours without contact, sir. We decided not to come through right away when you missed the eight hour check-in, but we were about to come through and recover you when the gate activated." Bates glanced at Stackhouse. "Mission is scrubbed, you're relieved. Go put the gear away, we won't be needing it."

Stackhouse glanced at his men - Markham and Yamato flanked him wielding both P90s and bummed expressions that matched his own - and nodded. "It's a wrap. Go take a load off." Then he nodded to Bates, Sheppard, and Weir, before turning and following his men up the stairs and out of the control room.

McKay fidgeted. "I don't know about all of you, but I'm starving. Mess hall?"

"As good an idea as any, I s'pose," Sheppard readily agreed.

"I'm in," Ford said, unstrapping his weapons. "But we should get out of these BDUs first."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Elizabeth Weir laid her tray down on the elongated table on the far side of the mess, taking a seat facing the wall. The food didn't look particularly appetizing - their food shortages had forced everyone to renege on their particularities about what they ate and the Menarian food, while filling, didn't taste great.

The encounter with not-Earth, and the realization that everything that took place in the dream was from their own imaginations, had hit her only after they had returned. All the events that had taken place - particularly her joyful reunion with Simon and the military's takeover of Atlantis - refused to leave her mind.

In all honesty, it had been some time since she seriously thought about Simon. Telling the imagined Simon that she thought of him every day had been the kind of platitude that one shared with one beloved and long lost but didn't really come from her heart. She hadn't replaced Simon - or, at least, she didn't think she had - she simply hadn't had _time _to think about him. What with the crises that plagued Atlantis on an almost daily basis, and the critical nature of her own position in the expedition, her distant boyfriend and the world he inhabited had not been on the top of her priority list. Earth itself was merely a dream and not one that she entertained often - had not ever really entertained until the chance to go home arose.

As for the second and far more worrying - and plausible - portion of her imagination's wanderings... the military taking over Atlantis following reunion with Earth _was _on her list of concerns. This was largely because the more she thought about it the more it made sense. Frankly, she wasn't cut out for all-out warfare with the Wraith and, as John had said earlier that day, when she'd signed up they hadn't even been in the picture.

More to the point was imagination-John's willingness to hand over everything they had done - _together - _to the military without even consulting her about it... that had been the last straw, what had finally convinced her that what she was experiencing on Earth was fundamentally flawed and false, but the seed was sown in her mind and plagued her now. If the situation came up, what _would _John do? She would have to ask him.

Or maybe she wouldn't. If the answer was that he would do as he had in the dream and turn control over to the military she would really rather not know. There wasn't anything she could do about it if it was true and it would completely ruin their working relationship.

McKay slipped into the booth facing her. "Elizabeth," he greeted.

"Rodney."

"So!" McKay grinned. "What of Earth did you see?"

Elizabeth brought her fork to her mouth, chewing slowly to avoid answering the question. "Let's wait before sharing stories until the others get here. I don't want to have to tell a story twice."

McKay shrugged, digging gleefully into his own meal. He had, she noted, scrounged a disproportionate amount of their remaining food supplies from Earth and she eyed it longingly before returning to her Menarian-supplied meal. Unlike Rodney, who felt no compunction about consuming their remaining Earth supplies, it always made her feel mildly guilty.

She glanced up over her shoulder as a hand brushed it, squeezing lightly. Beside her, Sheppard slid into place. He tossed her a sideways smile before turning to his meal and digging in with gusto.

He, unlike most of the Earth expedition, never seemed bothered by the particulars of what he ate. She wondered if he was simply not a picky eater or if he'd had field experiences which had taught him the necessity of making use of whatever resources were at hand.

Teyla and Ford were the last to arrive. Teyla took up a spot next to McKay, across from Sheppard, and Ford sat on her left at the head of the table. He grinned widely. "It was nice seeing Earth again, even if it was only a figment of our imagination."

"I did enjoy getting a chance to experience your world, although the accuracy of what I saw does seem to be a question," Teyla replied.

Sheppard shrugged, mouth full. "Most of what you saw was pretty accurate," he said, swallowing. "The whole mall thing might have been a little exaggerated, but not much."

Weir turned her eyes on him. "You took her shopping?"

Sheppard grinned at her insolently before continuing. "Yes, Doctor. I did. She needed a new outfit."

"Really."

"Really!"

"The clothes on your world seem to be entirely designed for comfort and appearance," Teyla noted.

"We're a very material people. When we're not fighting and dying, that is." This came from McKay who continued to devour precious, and copious, amounts of spaghetti. The look that Teyla gave him was one that clearly conveyed she had already reached that conclusion.

Ford raised his spoon and pointed in Teyla's general direction. "I thought you looked different when we all had that little siesta in the SGC gate room."

"That's 'cause she did," Sheppard replied. He turned back to Teyla. "After that, though, the whole bachelor pad thing is probably accurate for really, _really_ wealthy young people - people who don't go into the military and don't know about the Stargate so their primary concern is a steady supply of beer and women." Weir rolled her eyes, cheeks coloring slightly despite herself.

"So, you do not own such a place?"

Sheppard frowned. "You know, I don't even have a house back on Earth. Or an apartment. I've been living on military bases so long, not only is there no point in paying rent, but I never stayed in one place long enough to make it worth while." He grinned at Teyla. "It was a whole lot better than the last place I lived. Antarctica is just a whole lot of cold. Good for solitude, though." He cocked his head at McKay. "What'd you see, Rodney?"

McKay grimaced, putting his fork down and taking a moment before starting. "I went home, had no messages, watched some TV, got really bored and wanted to get back to work."

Ford rolled his eyes and Sheppard waved his hand in a circle, trying to prompt some elaboration. "And?"

"And then I got back to work and managed to prove that the reality we were in obeyed none of the natural laws. Apparently the mist-people have no understanding of science."

"Sounds boring," commented Ford.

"It was quite frustrating, actually."

"I can imagine," drawled Sheppard. Turning slightly to Weir, he prodded her shoulder with his hand. "What about you, Doctor?"

Weir sighed. "Dreams? Nightmares? The best and the worst of all possibilities?"

Teyla nodded knowingly. "The aliens showed you what you wanted to see and what you did not want to see."

Sheppard pursed his lips. "It was kinda nice seeing the guys again. Although it did prove without a shadow of a doubt that I wasn't on Earth."

Weir, looking for a way to not discuss her own experiences, gave Sheppard a look that requested elaboration. Sheppard looked down, steeling himself, then sighed. "Teyla made a comment to me while we were lounging in my imaginary bachelor pad about having company over, seeing friends. I immediately thought about two guys I'd known in Afghanistan - I served with both of them for more than a year in Special Ops. You don't serve with guys for that long and not get close - you either become friends or someone transfers, especially in a high-risk unit like ours was. The three of us survived mission after mission while most of the rest of the team was killed or wounded and replaced."

"You were really that good, sir?"

"Or that lucky. Teyla got to hear Dex and Mitch tell a couple stories and there are some really good ones in there, including a half dozen times we survived even though those situations were dangerous to the point of jumping into an erupting volcano. Anyway, our unit got into big trouble outside of Kabul - Taliban resistance fighters got their hands on some pretty heavy ordinance and we were sent in to liberate it. I was on the ground, Dex and Mitch were in the chopper running SAR, grenades were flying everywhere and people were shooting... I had wounded on the ground, the unit commander was dead, it was just bad."

Sheppard paused, taking a sip of his water. "Anyway, the chopper set down outside a building we'd holed up in as we tried to patch up the wounded with what medical supplies we had. I stayed in the building to provide cover - the bad guys were coming in the other entrance." Sheppard grimaced. "Three guys pinned me down long enough for a fourth to get line-of-sight on the chopper through a back window. The explosion wiped out what was left of my unit. Seven men died in total."

"What did you do then?" Ford asked. Sheppard didn't reply, instead taking another sip of his water, eyes suddenly vague.

_That explosion could only have been the chopper. Sheppard, head down and gunfire exploding around him, was sprayed with wood and plaster chips from the walls as bullets peppered his cover. He shielded his eyes to avoid being temporarily blinded, mind furious. His was a cold and purposeful rage - icy determination combined with a lust for vengeance and pure fury. Mentally counting the rounds from the three AK-47s that were firing in his direction, he waited until he knew two were empty and then tossed two grenades - one an explosive which killed two of the men shooting at him instantly, the other a smoke grenade which made it impossible for anyone to see. _

_Striding through the cloud he felt motion, knew it was the third man - he fired twice with his handgun and the motion ceased. Moving over to check, Sheppard noted that both rounds had caught the resistance fighter in the torso, then he moved on. Switching to his M4, he glanced out the window and closed his eyes in pain when he saw the burning wreck of the chopper and the American corpses that littered the ground in its vicinity. _

_He heard the floor creak in the general direction of the far window and he spun, dropping to his knees. The bastard who'd destroyed the chopper was barely visible through the smoke from Sheppard's grenade, but his M4 snarled, a short burst of ammunition lancing through the smoke. His friends' killer died instantly, one of the rounds shattering his jaw while the other two rendered him unrecognizable..._

By the time he was done and had gotten back to base the Afghan casualties had outnumbered the American by more than three to one.

Sheppard shrugged at Ford. "Made my way home on foot. Colonel Cromwell sent a recovery team later that day, brought back what was left of the men. There wasn't much left of Mitch or Dex, but we recovered their bodies and took them home for military funerals."

"Sounds like you were lucky to make it out of that one, sir."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Sheppard replied.

Sheppard's tone reminded Weir strikingly of their conversation earlier in that day. _"You can put your mind at rest. I'm not going anywhere." _God forbid she ever get between an angry John Sheppard and something he was determined to do.

Sheppard was now eying Weir speculatively. "So, Doctor, what did you experience that you're dodging questions about it?"

Weir flushed and turned away, breaking their eye contact. "Nothing worth sharing right now."

Sheppard shrugged, grinning at her with a teasing grin on his face. "Whatever you say, Doctor. Whatever you say."

"I got to see my parents and grandma, but there _were _all acting kinda weird," said Ford.

"The aliens were really terrible at imitating human relations," McKay added. "The most convincing thing I saw was my cat."

"If you got rejected by a woman, Rodney, it wasn't _their_ fault," teased Sheppard.

The table shared a laugh at Rodney's expense, the scientist scowling at the group and returning to his meal in disgust. Sheppard, hearing both footsteps and seeing Teyla's eyes following something over his shoulder, turned around and noticed Doctor Beckett coming towards them. "Carson, come and save me!" called McKay.

"I dun think I could save you from the likes of these, Rodney," Beckett sighed. He turned to Teyla. "I'm ready to go visit the Athosian settlement tomorrow, Teyla. All the medical supplies have been packed on Jumper Three, but we still need a pilot."

Weir's eyes lit up in sudden comprehension. "You're starting the vaccination cycle tomorrow?"

"Aye. I've managed to isolate several of the native contagions from the Ancient database and synthesize effective vaccinations. The sooner the better."

Teyla tilted her head at Sheppard. "We need a pilot, Major, and since I have gotten a chance to meet some of your friends, perhaps you should take this opportunity to see some of mine."

Sheppard shrugged. "Sure. Why not. Tomorrow it is."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

"What's the problem, Elizabeth?" Weir sat across a desk, slumped in a chair, a deep frown written across her face. "What did you see that has you so bothered?"

Weir sighed. "Simon."

Kate Heightmeyer frowned. _That's not the problem, but it's a start. _"What about Simon?"

"I..." Weir sighed again. "I'm afraid of the future."

"Why? I know you're worried about returning to Earth and finding that Simon has moved on, Elizabeth, but you're not dependent on him anymore. Your relationships here on Atlantis are some of the strongest you've ever had, and they're completely mutual. Losing Simon would hurt, yes, but you haven't lost him yet. And even if you do, the people here on Atlantis will always be there to help keep you up and going."

There was a flicker in Weir's face and Heightmeyer caught it immediately. _The problem isn't Simon. It's something here on Atlantis. _"What else did you see, Elizabeth?" She clasped her hands together, laying them on the desk and leaning forwards. "What did they show you that has you all tied in knots?" Weir hesitated and Heightmeyer pounced. "Simon isn't what's bothering you. Tell me what is."

Finally, Weir relented. "While I was on Earth, things kept happening that prevented me from returning to Atlantis. First _Prometheus _was damaged in an accident and it stranded me on Earth while the rest of the expedition was back on Atlantis. I never felt so helpless before - Simon couldn't comfort me and I kept blaming myself for leaving. John, Teyla and the others were all alone and I know they can handle themselves, but I should have been there with them..."

Heightmeyer nonchalantly wrote on the pad of paper on her right hand, eyes still locked on Weir. _Atlantis. John. Teyla. Fear of abandonment, both of abandoning others and being abandoned._

"But even if we had been able to go back, the military was thinking of scrapping the project because of the Wraith threat. All that we've done, everyone who's died already would have died for nothing as we ran away with our tails between our legs..."

_Fear of the project being disbanded because of Wraith threat, but with the underlying understanding that it might be the right thing to do. Guilt over expedition deaths - understandable, given her situation as expedition leader._

"Then Rodney found a way to send us all back to Atlantis - I'm still not sure how or what the specifics were, but I suppose that was my brain insisting that we would never really be cut off indefinitely, that eventually someone _would _find a way..."

Heightmeyer continued with her notes. _Rodney. Fear of inevitable reunion with Earth and what it would mean for the project. _

"Then General Hammond told me that the military was taking over Atlantis. The government was convinced that the Wraith was a huge risk but that I was right - Atlantis is important enough to warrant that risk, but that they could no longer trust a civilian to run the expedition. I was summarily dismissed from my post and most civilians either sent home or sent back to continue working under military command. Rodney wasn't even bothered at all!"

_Fear of losing Atlantis to the military; she knows that will be the likely response from the military when she returns to Earth and she doesn't know what President Hayes will do when faced with the Wraith threat. Fear of being sent home while the others go back without her._

Weir stopped speaking and Heightmeyer frowned. _She's still leaving something out and she knows it. _"What else?"

Weir sighed heavily. "And John's report to Homeworld Security made it clear that he supported the change from a civilian to a military facility because he thought it was necessary to guarantee security. He didn't even talk to me about it first."

_Finally, _Heightmeyer thought. Her hand moved quickly. _John. Still not sure that John trusts her to make the right decisions. Fear that John will circumvent her and turn to the military instead when the time comes. Fear that John thinks nothing more of her than his temporary civilian boss. Her fear of abandonment again, but this time it's more specific. Fear of abandonment by John_ _in particular. _Heightmeyer looked up. "Have you talked to Major Sheppard about this?"

Weir froze. "What?"

_This isn't about Simon, _Heightmeyer realized, not really surprised, having anticipated this conclusion from the moment Weir walked into her office. _It's about John. _"Have you talked to John about the fact that in your dream he cut you out of the loop and sent you home without even talking to you about it first?" She added a bit of emphasis on John's name.

"Do you think I should?"

Heightmeyer leaned back into her chair. "I think you're scared, Elizabeth. You're scared of a number of things - don't get me wrong, it's perfectly normal and I'd be more worried if you weren't scared. God knows I'm scared of what we face out here every day and I don't have the same burdens that you do, far from it. You are responsible for all of our lives, each day, every day, and you never expected to be up against something like the Wraith. Not only that, but you might be responsible for all the lives of not only Earth, but the entire Milky Way galaxy, as if the Wraith get Atlantis it's very possible they'll get Earth too."

Weir's frown grew deeper but Heightmeyer bulldozed onwards. "But that's all professional fear. You have personal fears too. You're scared about Simon but you know, even if that relationship does end, that you'll survive it. You've armored yourself against that eventuality."

Weir nodded uncertainly.

"On top of your professional fear that you have because of your responsibilities to this expedition, you fear _losing _that responsibility. You're scared of returning to Earth and not being allowed to come back, either because they end the expedition or because you're relieved. No one likes getting fired, Elizabeth, and despite the different level of magnitude between getting fired from chief protector of Earth in the Pegasus galaxy and from a cubicle secretary nine to five job, that fear is largely the same and, again, is perfectly normal."

Weir nodded again, slightly more certain.

"But there's something else, Elizabeth. Not only did you get fired, you got fired and the people you are closest to - Rodney and John - betrayed you. Rodney went and forgot all about Atlantis, returning to his basement office to play with his ZPMs. Part of you is scared that, despite the depth he's shown on occasion, that's all there is to Rodney McKay - that all he needs is some creature comfort and an Ancient gadget to play with and he's content."

Weir's uncertainty had returned and she was shaking her head in opposition to Heightmeyer's statement, but the psychiatrist continued onwards.

"Even worse than that, but the one person you have grown to trust and really _rely _on is one person you're not really sure you know. You care about John and you think he cares about you, in fact you're pretty sure that he does, but he's a unapologetic flirt and you know that. You even willingly participate. Is your relationship just John looking for another conquest or is he genuinely your friend? And does John really trust you? You're not sure if he does or not and chances are he'll never be able to convince you otherwise until we really do reach Earth again and we're put in this situation all over again."

Weir was silent for several long seconds. "I'm not sure I agree with you, but assuming you _are _right, what should I do?"

Heightmeyer shrugged. "Talk to John." She paused, forcing Weir to make eye contact. "There's more to Major Sheppard than a cold, womanizing career military man, Elizabeth. I know you know that. Aside from pointing out your fears to you, there's not a whole lot I can do to help. He can." She smiled. "But you already knew that."

When Weir left, Heightmeyer found herself fiddling with her pencil, noting that despite the amount of talking Weir had done about all kinds of subjects, that fully half the notes she had taken were at most one step removed from Major John Sheppard. _Deep down she knows that her relationship with Simon is over. From what she's said that relationship was over the moment she left for Atlantis, but she's holding on because that's all she has left that resembles a normal life. Her relationship with John isn't a romantic one, but it is the single most important relationship in her life today and part of her knows that and is terrified by it. _

_John isn't a whole lot better. He's gone so long without even friendship - every close friend he's ever spoken of has died. And, despite having once been married, he is completely clueless in how to actually have a long-term relationship with a woman, whether that relationship is platonic or otherwise. Teyla is teaching him what it means to have a friend again, bit by bit, but Elizabeth is a completely different proposition and, just as she's subtly aware of it, so is he. _

_And it scares the hell out of him, too._

As usual with Sheppard or Weir, Heightmeyer found herself destroying her notes to make sure that, when they _did _regain contact with Earth as she was supremely confident they eventually would, what she had to say wouldn't unmake everything Elizabeth Weir and John Sheppard had accomplished - both together as the leaders and protectors of Atlantis and its people, and together as John and Elizabeth.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Weir hesitated at the doorway to the lounge. It was abandoned, except for Sheppard on the couch, and he was watching one of his football games for the umpteenth time. She couldn't see his face, as he was facing away from her towards the television, but he had sunk deeply into the couch. Steeling herself, she pushed into the room and, glancing at John and seeing him glance up at her, she sat beside him.

They sat like that for a while, John's attention split between the football game and Elizabeth while hers was focused single-mindedly on the television. She'd never really liked football, either.

John sighed, emerging from the couch to sit up and flicked the screen off, turning to face her. He just cocked his head at her, waiting pointedly for her to say whatever it was she had come to say. Elizabeth, knowing he had her, leaned back into the couch, head reclined, and stared at the ceiling. "The thing that finally convinced me that we weren't really on Earth was when General Hammond showed up and told me that the military was taking over Atlantis and I was being relieved of my post and would be staying on Earth."

John snorted. "That's stupid."

Elizabeth, shocked, turned to him. "What?"

John's eyes narrowed. "Well, I could see the military taking over Atlantis, I suppose. What with the Wraith threat and the current lack of options we have to deal with it a full retreat would probably be smarter, but if we stay the military will definitely _try _to take over." Elizabeth grimaced. John's thinking mirrored the events of her dream. "But to do it summarily and to just send you home without brining you back? Your expertise is invaluable to Atlantis, military or civilian."

"Would you support a military takeover of Atlantis?"

John tilted his head at her, registering that her concern had to do with _him, _not with the military or Atlantis. She had to have already realized everything he'd just said, so her reason for talking to him had to be... him. "Doctor, there are a lot of pros and cons. The military knows better how to fight a war but a full military takeover would restrict a lot of the scientific research and been confining for most of the civilian contingent on Atlantis - and I think we all know that we need men like Rodney and Zelenka if we're going to survive here. Guns aren't enough." He paused for a very long second, still looking at her. "Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's reaction was instantaneous. He'd never used her first name before.

"Elizabeth," he said again. "We need you here. Not only would Atlantis not be the same without you, but we'd be worse. Much worse. We might be dead."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, relief flooding through her.

"I don't know what I'd suggest to the powers that be when we find a way to contact Earth, Elizabeth. But when it comes time for us to figure out what the best course of action to take is we'll figure it out together." Sheppard shrugged. "Does that make you feel better?"

Elizabeth laughed suddenly, sitting up and smiling at him. "Yes, John."

"Well... good." He frowned at her. "You really were worried that I'd just go and cut you out of the loop, weren't you?"

She winced, turning away to hide her embarrassment at having mistrusted him.

John chuckled. "I couldn't do that, you know. The only reason I'm here is you gave me the chance and what I've gained..." his voice trailed off and he waved his hand slightly, indicating Atlantis and everything it entailed. "I couldn't let anyone just take that from you. You've earned it."

"So have you."

"I've kept you and the others alive," John said. "That's what I was brought here for. I've not earned my keep until all the dangers have gone and we've all lived to tell stories about them."

Weir frowned. "Don't hold yourself to an impossible standard, John."

"Why shouldn't I? I'd never forgive myself if one of you died. I've never forgiven myself for Rusty or Dex or Mitch and..."

"And?"

John shrugged. "If I've never been able to forgive myself for them, I'll certainly never be able to forgive myself for losing you. Any of you."

Her breath caught in her chest. While he'd quickly amended his statement to encompass a greater 'you' than just herself, his first 'you' had clearly been singular. Reaching out, she rested a hand on his arm and he instinctively covered it with his other hand. "I'll do my best to make sure you don't ever have to."

"So will I," he replied. Then, a mischievous glint returned to his eye and he grinned at her. "Does this mean you'll let me teach you how to use a gun?"

Weir's returning glare was only mock-cold, the underlying warmth impossible to hide. "Don't push it, Major."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

When Sheppard returned to his quarters he fell heavily onto the bed, reaching for his oft-used but barely-read copy of _War and Peace. _Opening the book up to the marked page, he began reading it again from where he'd left off, but his mind was distracted.

Elizabeth had surprised him, both with her willingness to open herself up and her clear fear - not of losing Atlantis or the expedition, but of _him. _Still startled by this revelation - and by the fact that the warmth her hand had left on his arm had yet to fade - he once again found himself making almost no progress on the book.

One line, though, caught his eye. _"The means are... the balance of power in Europe and the rights of the people," the abbe was saying. "It is only necessary for one powerful nation like Russia - barbaric as she is said to be - to place herself disinterestedly at the head of an alliance having for its object the maintenance of the balance of power in Europe, and it would save the world!" _

The overall material of the paragraph largely did not concern him. It was the last five words that caused him to close the book again, placing the market in place. _It would save the world. I'd gladly sacrifice the world if it meant saving the people on it._


	9. Tempest in a Teacup: Thunder Wakes

Author's Notes: You'll note that, in these TAGs that while Sora is occasionally referenced, I will not attempt to resolve her story or even tell much of her story. The reason for this is that someone else has already done it, and better than I have: SGAFan's _Shades of Grey_ is a fantastic piece dedicated to just that purpose. While I will not explicitly reference that story out of respect for SGAFan's own creative work, I will also be careful not to say anything that will explicitly contradict SGAfan's work.

**Tempest a in Teacup, Part 1 of 3: Thunder Wakes  
**

_TAG to The Storm and The Eye_

_This scene starts immediately after Atlantis' shield has been raised, immediately prior to the last scene of the episode._

His blood had warmed from frozen to slightly thawed. On his right McKay was still hunched, breathless and astonished, over his keyboard, staring at the readouts as if sheer force of will would keep the shield raised under the onslaught that raged outside Atlantis. On the other side of the room Teyla was eyeing him cautiously, clearly aware of his tormented state of mind, but Ford had already moved from problem one to problem two, his fingers tightening around his 9 millimeter and focusing on Sora, the pretty, young, Genii firebrand.

Weir still looked shellshocked, but not half as shellshocked as Sheppard felt. It was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking now that it was over.

Realizing that Ford was waiting for instructions, he regained his composure. "Sora, are you going to behave yourself or do we need to cuff you to a chair?"

The Genii woman frowned. "So long as the storm rages outside, I will do nothing to oppose you. After it ends, however..." she shrugged.

Sheppard nodded at her. "Thank you for your honesty." He turned to Ford. "I'll take her at her word but if it makes you feel better to keep an eye on her, go ahead."

"Yessir."

Beckett, still nursing the knock on the head Sora had given him, fell heavily into the chair next to McKay. "Ach, my head," he muttered.

"Are you all right, Carson?" Weir asked, but to Sheppard the voices faded to background, his own thoughts and recriminations dominating. Suddenly feeling caged, he turned on his heels and walked towards Weir's office, ignoring what he knew were the eyes of Teyla, Ford, Weir, and McKay locked on his back as he went. He thought he heard McKay calling to him but he ignored the pestering, pushing his way into and past Weir's office, out onto the balcony.

In the open, the air was still heavy from the earlier rain. The sky was blackened and sparked relentlessly, both because of the lightning that flashed down and the torrential rains and winds that battered impotently against Atlantis' shield. Closing his eyes, he released his senses to the tempest. His senses told him he was standing in the largest storm ever recorded by man, but there was no rain, no wind. Nothing plucked him off the balcony and tossed him down to the pier that floated peaceably below, no lightning slashed down and fried every nerve in his body.

He'd goddamned _failed._

Locking his hands around the bar that separated him from the immense drop down from the balcony, his hands squeezed, the pressure both comforting and... not. He'd been taken off guard by the Genii attack. Kolya - his hands tightened around the bar further - had killed two men in cold blood. Then he'd murdered Elizabeth and held Rodney's life in his mercurial hands.

He'd made the Genii pay. The rage that now merely simmered in his blood had _consumed _him, and he'd done his best to bring the wrath of a vengeful god down on the people who had killed Elizabeth and were, without a shadow of a doubt, going to kill Rodney. Unlike many people who allow themselves to be taken by the madness of their rage, his did not blind him - it was cold, ruthless, and effortlessly deadly. Kolya had released the Major John Sheppard who had heartlessly avenged his dead comrades in Afghanistan, Dex and Mitch's blackened corpses engraved on the insides of his eyelids, and the Genii commander paid for that mistake with more than seventy lives and a bullet that carved out a piece of his shoulder.

Until Kolya had revealed that Elizabeth was still alive and resurrected hope that she and McKay could yet be saved, Sheppard had but one concern: deny Kolya Atlantis and make sure that when the city died, Kolya would damned well go with it.

He released the bar, exhaling softly and letting the last of the rage go. In its place came unyielding despair. He'd failed Atlantis, failed Forman and Cormier, failed McKay, failed Elizabeth. The Genii had waltzed into Atlantis while he'd been off on the far side of the city, playing with lightning rods, killed Forman, killed Cormier, and taken Rodney and Elizabeth hostage.

The most devastating revelation is that he hadn't got a clue what he could have done differently. He supposed, instead of killing the two Genii soldiers who'd ambushed him at the power generator he could have let them kill him. Kolya would have had no reason to kill Elizabeth then, but Kolya would be in control of Atlantis instead and Sheppard had no doubt that he would never have let Elizabeth and Rodney go free. What would that have accomplished?

"John?" Elizabeth rested a hand on his shoulder and his eyes closed again in revived anguish. "We're all still here, John."

Sheppard cleared his throat to make sure he would be able to speak clearly. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." Elizabeth tilted her head up to stare at the raging storm, water rolling down the shield and electrical current flashing over as the wind howled angrily down at them, denied its prize. "Yes, John, I'm all right."

"It's beautiful, isn't it," he murmured. "All that violence and here we are, safe and protected in our tiny little bubble of the universe. But eventually this bubble will pop and we'll go back to fighting a battle that may well be unwinnable." Her hand tightened on his shoulder and he sighed. "There was nothing I could do to save you or Rodney. He told me..."

"I know."

"I made him pay for that lie."

"I know."

John's breath hitched. "He told me you were dead, Elizabeth."

Her name, coming from him, was still something new to her. And his pain, all the more enlightening when she considered the fact that she was not, in fact, dead, was something she wasn't really sure how to relieve because she wasn't entirely sure what the source of it was.

John, as usual, read her mind. "I've always thought that if I did everything right, if I was willing to let myself go first and was always the first into the trench and the last out of the trench, that I could save everyone else. When people died it was always _my mistake. _But I go over the events of today over and over and _over _and I can't... maybe I didn't leave specific enough instruction with Forman and Cormier? Maybe I should have turned myself in instead of playing the hero? Maybe I-"

"Maybe you just can't win every time, John."

"I can," he whispered. "I have to." The events of barely ten minutes before, with John's cold, remorseless eyes lined up at the end of a gun that was, from her vantage, aimed straight at her head, flashed through her mind and was enough to send a shiver down her spine. She'd been staring into the eyes of a killer, one who knew every last trick in the book and knew he was the best there was... and one who was bound and determined to accomplish his mission.

She'd recently told herself that she hoped never to get between John and something he was bound and determined to do. Now she'd seen the way he looked at someone who did and she was even more determined to stay out of his line of fire.

His stalwart belief that he was the be-all-and-end-all in defense of Atlantis, that he had to be perfect, and that it was always his life that should first and foremost be risked - that was dangerous. It could get him killed and, perhaps just as worrying, seemed to override all of his decision making capabilities. She would have to find a way to show him that it wasn't necessary, that him doing a Rambo impersonation was more likely to cause problems then solve them in most cases, but she didn't need to do that now.

Right now, she needed to make sure that he knew he hadn't failed. McKay was in the control room watching over the shields that held the storm raging over their heads, separated them by only the translucent shield, and she was here on the balcony. With him.

She turned him to face her and wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him to her tightly. "Rodney and I are alive," she murmured. "We won. We won." He didn't hug her back, but then she didn't expect him to. He just slouched over, pressing his chin into her shoulder, and allowed her to give him whatever reassurance she could. The air around them grew lighter, followed by light that trickled through the clouds and the shield and she released him, pulling him to look up at the sky as the storm receded. "We're in the eye," she noted quietly, subdued.

John nodded, comfortable in having her side pressed against his. The cold, relentless hatred and despair had gone from him now, his eyes filled again with a soft warmth. But he replied, "The storm will be back," a subtle reminder that they'd escaped this time, somehow, against all the odds. There would be a next time.

"We'll be ready for it."

"Maybe."

When the flashes of lightning came off the horizon and started battering again on Atlantis' shields, the city's stalwart defenses more than up to the task of defeating whatever nature might have in store, Elizabeth gently tugged John back in the direction of the control room. Leading him, as he had led her away from the spot where Kolya had wrapped his arm around her neck, she gave him a soft reassuring smile before releasing his arm, letting him free once again. Her eyes followed him as he casually evaluated Sora, the Genii woman sitting on the floor with her back up against one of the control panels, staring at the floor. Above her was Beckett, sitting in the chair and talking softly with Teyla and Ford while he held his head and complained of concussion symptoms. McKay was hunched over the shield control panel, carefully regulating the flow of power to avoid shorting out any one power coupling that might struggle under the truly limitless energy provided by the storm's lightning.

Once McKay was satisfied that Atlantis wasn't in any danger of sinking, he collapsed into his chair, heaving a huge sigh that caught everyone's attention for a moment. When they realized that there was no problem, it was only McKay, most turned back to what they were doing, but Sheppard made his way over to the scientist, glancing over his shoulder at the power relays. Weir stepped closer, staying just far enough away not to intrude but close enough to hear.

"Are the power conduits in the hallways holding?" Sheppard asked, much to Weir's surprised. It wasn't like him to encourage technical talk, especially not from McKay.

"The raw energy is more than they were designed to be capable for, but it's within safety tolerances," McKay replied. "Although, if you hadn't disabled the control room power generator, it'd be much easier for me to regulate the flow of power away from the more frayed systems and into the ones with more fortitude."

"If I hadn't disabled that generator I would never have gotten close enough to the control room to stop the reinforcements from coming through," Sheppard pointed out.

McKay paused, then nodded. "Why did you disable the second generator? The one powering the grounding station that Elizabeth and I were supposedly trying to repair?"

Sheppard shrugged. "After Kolya told me Elizabeth was dead I knew three things: first, that he had you in close custody and that I wasn't going to be able to get close enough to rescue you. The way Kolya had his troops deployed made that almost impossible. Second, that you were the only one who knew how to save Atlantis and that he needed your help to do that. Third, I knew Kolya wouldn't hesitate to kill you and even if I did turn myself in, chances are it would just be signing my own death warrant along with yours." He held his hands up, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness. "I had to stop Kolya and no matter what I did, I couldn't see a way to save your life without first putting you in mortal jeopardy in the hands of a man who'd already demonstrated he had no compunctions about killing unarmed personnel." Sheppards eyes drifted over to Weir, then darted back to McKay. "So I wrote you off and went after Kolya. I hoped that he wouldn't kill you, but there wasn't anything I could do about it if he decided to. And I figured if anyone could talk their way out of getting shot, you could."

"Oh," McKay said, face slightly mortified.

Weir stepped up next to Sheppard, smiling at Rodney. "He did talk them out of shooting me," she murmured, glancing up at Sheppard. His hand drifted down to her shoulder and squeezed gently, both of their focuses still on the disturbed McKay.

"I did, didn't I?" McKay replied. "I think I've been spending too much time with you, Major," he said. Sheppard cocked his head and McKay frowned at Elizabeth. "I couldn't let them kill you. If they killed you then I would be next."

Weir's face went from softly sympathetic and comforting to one that reminded John oddly of the storm before it had struck the city, while it was still on the distant horizon.

"Besides," McKay continued, "I did need you to help me with the repairs on the grounding station and certainly none of the Genii had any expertise with Ancient technology! They're still somewhere just after the bronze but shortly before the nuclear age and don't have a clue. Without me they'd still be peddling about somewhere around the Fermi experiments and without a clue as to the right direction to go!" McKay lost his bluster momentarily, glancing down at the computer and tossing off the next command almost as an aside. "And I didn't want them to kill you."

That was enough to send the storm packing and put a smile back on Weir's face. Rodney, clearly come to what he wanted to be the end of the conversation, was seemingly absorbed into his computer redoubt doing something that, if asked, would probably be vital to Atlantis' continued survival. So Weir backed off and took a seat in one of the chairs scattered around the control room, being careful to take a seat that did not have a vantage which could see either the bodies of the two men they'd lost or those of the Genii which were laid out on the opposite side of the gate room.

She had just been sitting long enough for some of the melancholy to return, the echoes of her fear of death, of Kolya, of imprisonment, when she felt two hands rest on her shoulders from behind and begin gently kneading the tension out of her flesh. She tensed at first, then relaxed. Only one man would be brave enough, or stupid enough, to do something like this while they were both ostensibly on duty and other senior officers were sitting just on the other side of the control room.

Their focus, however, was elsewhere, and she felt Sheppard lean in behind her, hands still rolling over her shoulders. "You know," he murmured softly, "I never did ask about why you gave me that hug."

Weir flushed, grateful that Sheppard couldn't see her face. "You thought I was dead," she replied in an equally soft and understated tone of voice.

She could feel Sheppard's smile. "Does this mean I get to hug you every time you can demonstrate that you're not dead even though I believe otherwise?"

They hadn't done this lately, the flirting, the casual comments, the innocent touches. Although these particular touches were far less innocent than previous ones. Still, she smiled - smirked really - and leaned back into the chair, into his almost innocent touch. "As long as we're not in the gate room," she murmured.

"What about the other way around, when you think I'm dead?" That was, they both knew, a far more likely occurrence.

Weir stood, shaking his hands off her shoulders gently, not quite rejecting him, although there was a gentle rebuke implied. But she smiled, not a seductive smile, but an openly teasing, demure smile that suggested nothing more than high-school grade response from a girl who knew she was being chased and didn't want to end the chase, but also knew she wasn't going to get caught. "As long as we're not in the gate room," she repeated.


	10. Tempest in a Teacup: Silent Blitzkrieg

**Tempest in a Teacup, Part 2 of 3: Silent Blitzkrieg**

_TAG to "The Storm" and "The Eye"_

_This scene starts immediately following the ending of "The Eye."_

Doctor Elizabeth Weir, expedition leader of Earth's farthest outpost into the outermost reaches of the universe, had largely recovered from the strain placed upon her by the last day.

Staring into John Sheppard's ice cold eyes, filled with a severe determination that defied rationality and reality, daring the universe to _try _to stop him, as they blazed with their cold fire, firing a single round that had ripped through Kolya's shoulder, was an experience that had left her shaken. Both because of her understanding that Kolya had absolutely now compunctions about simply shooting her, and partially because while she had understood who John Sheppard was, she had never witnessed him on the battlefield. In a crisis situation, sure, and in situations where those he cared about were in jeopardy - she had seen glimpses, but never the whole picture.

Now she had witnessed him in action, facing the enemy, and while witnessing John's implacable will and merciless expression had shaken her, as she looked at the apparently lackadaisical man leaning on the rail of the Atlantis control room, looking down as the Athosian civilians returned to the base, scattered military personnel accompanying them, it filled her with relief and an odd sort of comfort.

Nor was John the only one of "her boys" who provided that confidence and optimism about Atlantis' chances, despite the knowledge of the odds they faced. Rodney McKay had stepped in front of a gun for her.

Doctor McKay, the uncaring, purely scientific and utterly rational scientist she had met before the expedition, would never have done such a thing. Despite the lie he proclaimed so confidently to Kolya, there were no codes that she knew that he did not required to raise the gate shield. And while his later protestations that he was a terrible liar were edged with truth, when it came to the crisis moment, the crossroads that determined whether or not she would live or die, he had placed himself in the line of fire.

McKay was now, as he so often was, hunched over the Ancient computer system that oversaw gate operations, complaining bitterly to Zelenka and Grodin about the damage the system had taken when he had flooded Atlantis with the electricity that would go on to power the city's shield.

Weir shook her head, bemusedly, and turned away as she heard her name.

"Elizabeth, this is the last group," John called from the rail, already jogging over to the stairs that led down. He was joined by Teyla - the Athosian was still shaken by her run in with the Genii woman Sora, who after an aborted escape attempt had ended up in a cell on the confinement level - and both of them hurried down the stairs to greet the last of the military contingent.

Sergeants Stackhouse and Bates were the last two to come through, both cradling their P90s to their chests as they walked through. Stackhouse's expression was one of excited concern - the news of what had happened on Atlantis had filtered through the Stargate when they called Manara to tell the displaced expedition members that it was safe to return, and while he'd been close to neither Cormier nor Forman, the military contingent was a close-knit, small group and the loss had hit him hard.

Bates' expression was closer to thunderous. He'd been unable to voice his outrage to his superiors while on Manara and clearly intended to make up for lost time. John and Teyla greeted the two men as the rest of the military officers either idled around assisting the Athosians or headed to the lockers to change and put away their arms.

Sheppard preempted Bates' impending questioning session. "Is everyone back?"

"No," said another voice. Sheppard turned, recognizing the de-facto leader of the Athosian population, Halling. The big Athosian wore an unhappy expression. "Doran did not return with us. We asked after him, but the Manarans were unhelpful."

"I bet his code was the one used to penetrate our Stargate," Bates commented. Next to Sheppard, Teyla shifted uncomfortable.

"It was," John affirmed. That had been one of their first orders of business following saving Atlantis - determining how the Genii had managed to get through Atlantis' defenses in the first place. The code that Cormier had recognized and lowered the gate shield for had been Doran's code, replete with both the full sequence and the required fingerprint ID.

Weir had, at this point, idled up and stood equidistant between Sheppard and Bates. "The commander of the Genii strike force, Kolya, implied that Doran had been subdued with alcohol and coerced into sending the ID confirmation that allowed them to port in."

"If Doran has not been found, then he is probably dead," said Teyla. "Kolya is not one who will be remembered for his mercy."

"Hopefully the bullet I put in him will mean our only future encounters with him will be in our memory, but I doubt it," Sheppard muttered.

Bates shook his head. "We should never have given out IDCs to the Athosians, we should have made sure they were in the hands of military personnel. This would not have happened and Cormier and Foreman would still be alive." Halling and Teyla both took on slightly affronted expressions, but neither was willing to contradict his statement.

"That is neither here nor there, Sergeant. We'll reevaluate our IDC policy at a later time and determine the best way of ensuring that this cannot happen again," Weir interrupted.

Next to her, Sheppard shook his head. "You know, this just doesn't make any sense to me. In order to be able to attack us in the first place, the Genii had to know that we were vulnerable and know where to find an IDC to get through the gate shield. The only people who even knew that we were going to be in a tough spot were us and the Manarians." His eyes hardened slightly. "They had to have sold us out. I can't think of another alternative."

Bates nodded, expression speculative. "I didn't like this plan from the start because I didn't trust Smeadon. He was willing to trade with him, but he demanded in return far more than other planets have requested in return. He doesn't strike me as someone who makes favors. If he saw opportunity to make a profit, he would take it. He probably called the Genii and told them of our difficulty in exchange for something."

Halling frowned. "How would Smeadon have known the Genii were anything other than the rural farmers that they outwardly appear to be?"

"After we discovered their secret, it became inevitable that others would eventually learn of it," Teyla pointed out.

"If I were Cowan," John said, "I would go and tell all my trading partners who and what I was immediately, retaining any good faith that would have been broken if we had informed them instead." He turned to Teyla. "The Genii trade with the Manarians, don't they?"

She nodded. "The Genii were the ones who told us of Manara, in fact."

Sheppard shrugged. "That's probably what happened."

"Two of our men are dead," Bates said, voice harsh. "Three, including the Athosian. And we trust these people to continue to supply us with food?" He shook his head bitterly. "How can we trust them now that we know they've sold us out once already? Clearly Smeadon would do it again in an instant if it suited his purposes."

"We will have to end our trade relationship with the Manarians immediately," Weir agreed. She grimaced. "It couldn't come at a worse time," she admitted. "With the destruction of the Athosian village on the mainland, we'll have to put up much of the Athosian community again here on Atlantis until it gets rebuilt, and our food requirements will go up. What's worse, we've lost all the Athosian crops and any meat from hunting that they provide until the settlement is reestablished. We'll need to find a new trading partner as soon as we can."

Sheppard smiled. "Doctor, I have an idea about solving our immediate food problem," he said. "Permission to undertake a little mission?"

Weir's face was skeptical. "How little?"

"My team and pilots and co-pilots for a pair of jumpers. Bates, Markham, and Stackhouse will do... we'll need a second pilot." He grinned at Teyla. "You flew with Beckett, think he's up for it?"

As Teyla began to shake her head in the negative, reminding Sheppard that the good doctor was still recovering from the blow to the head Sora had inflicted during the Genii strike, Weir mimicked the motion. "No, John. I'm not letting you go off to get revenge on the Manarians. We don't need to develop that kind of reputation-"

Sheppard cut her off. "Who said anything about revenge? I want to... cut off diplomatic relations. And solve our immediate food problems." He grinned at her, an expression that both begged trust and did little to inspire it. "Trust me."

She began to shake her head no, but his expression changed from a wry one to a more serious one. "Elizabeth," he said, all humor gone. Hearing her name from him was still a novel experience and she smiled slightly - both of them missed the speculative, suspicious look from Bates as he glanced between them. "Trust me," Sheppard said again.

Weir sighed. "Promise you won't do anything I'll remand you for later?"

"If we have to, we'll censor our reports."

"That doesn't do much to encourage my confidence, John."

Sheppard's face took on a full blown grin. "_Trust _me."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

"Am I making a mistake?" Weir asked the person next to her, his head buried in electronic information as he finished his overview of the damages Atlantis had sustained in the recent storm, what sections needed repair and what sections needed inspection.

Rodney McKay snorted at the question. Stupid question. "Letting Major Sheppard loose on a planet of people who he thinks are his enemy, but they don't know he's their enemy? And letting him decide what their status as his enemy entitles him to do? Of _course _you're making a mistake." He shuddered. "At least I'm not going. I have no idea how I would get him out of this one, whatever he ends up doing."

Weir winced, putting McKay's answer out of her mind and wandering over to the rail overlooking the Stargate. On the floor below, she heard Sheppard and Ford going through a pre-mission checklist, each one strapping weapons into place and checking their armor.

"MP5s?"

"Check."

"Enough for everyone?"

"Everyone on the ground will be carrying one and three extra clips."

"Reconnaissance gear?"

"We've got what we need, but most of the stuff is on Jumper One with Markham and Stackhouse, sir."

"Grenades?"

"More than enough."

"Did I miss anything?"

Ford snorted. He doubted John Sheppard had ever missed an item on a pre-mission checklist. "No sir."

"Well, that's good." Sheppard turned to angle his head up to look at Weir, but he called out to Rodney. "Light her up, McKay!"

Grumbling, McKay punched in the address for Manara. Weir, finally resigning herself to letting John have his way this time, just stared down at him with her most serious expression.

Sheppard grinned. "I know, Elizabeth." Then he turned to Ford and Teyla and slapped the butt end of his MP5. "Shall we?"

Ford shrugged, striding out in front. He stopped at the mouth of the Stargate, brushing the event horizon with the tip of his MP5, waving it slightly, before taking a deep breath and walking through. Teyla followed and Sheppard took the time to throw Weir one last, perfunctory salute before practically dancing through the Stargate.

The gate stayed open for forty-five more seconds, two loud splashes breaking the silence, the waves that filled the Stargate rippling as it was punctured. Then Weir sighed, leaning heavily against the rail as the gate shut down.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

One thing that John Sheppard had learned during his years of (mostly) exemplary military service was that an obvious frontal attack against enemy forces was highly undesirable. Stealth and subtlety were, in his opinion, far preferable (and far less likely to result in military funerals).

The Genii had proven that they were not _entirely _impossible - but the Genii had something going for them when they attacked Atlantis. That being a momentary lapse in the security of the place they were attacking while it attempted to determine whether or not they were friend or foe. The elaborate disguises that the Genii had worn permitted them to get close enough to eliminate all the defenses Atlantis had had, save Sheppard himself.

The Manarians did not have Major Sheppard in their back pocket.

When Sheppard came through the Stargate, he nodded formally to Ford and Teyla, both standing idly at the side of the Stargate under the cautious gaze of Manarian sentinels. "Heya guys," Sheppard said lightly, tossing them a halfhearted salute. "Where's Smeadon? There's something we need to talk about."

The guards, glancing at one another with slight misgivings, were sufficiently distracted that they didn't notice Sheppard carefully step away from the Stargate or hear the two silent, invisible jumpers come through the gate and fly up any away from the city.

They returned, one of them talking on an antiquated radio while the other gestured them forward. "The Magistrate has agreed to meet with you. This way."

Sheppard grinned at Ford. "Oh happy day," he said, half excited, half sarcastic.

"Yes sir."

The older military man turned his head imperceptibly to Teyla and winked. The Athosian nodded subtly and fell out of step.

By the time Ford and Sheppard reached the Magistrate's office, she had long since disappeared, her absence explained away with several marginal excuses and an over-enthusiastic check on his MP5's ammunition by Ford.

The two guards ushered Ford and Sheppard into Smeadon's office. The Manarian's large, oval table was much like they remembered it and each moved over towards the seats they had occupied during their most recent visit to this planet. Then they had begged Smeadon's assistance (emphasized by the weapons they carried, any one of which greatly outclassed the Manarian firearms in terms of quality, although the more primitive Manarian weapons were lethal enough if used properly).

Smeadon smiled magnanimously. "I trust that your people found their accommodations while here on our world most satisfactory?"

_Well, except the one who died after sharing your company, _Sheppard thought bitterly. Not a trace of his thoughts appeared on his well-schooled face and he smiled in the way a subordinate smiles at their immediate superior. "Doctor Weir offers her thanks for your most gracious assistance in our time of trouble, Magistrate. She wished to convey that we are fully aware of the debt that we owe and will do our best to repay it at our earlier convenience."

The smile on Smeadon's face faltered for half an instant, but he recovered quickly. "It was all we could do for a... friend." He frowned slightly. "Why are you here now?"

Sheppard allowed his face to morph into a chagrined frown. "I am afraid our recent trouble have had an unanticipated consequence. Our food supplies were devastated by the unfortunate storm that hit Atlantis and we are here to trade for whatever you might spare." He held up a placating hand, anticipating Smeadon's concerns. "We are aware we already were trading for a considerable portion of your crop and we do not wish to burden you any more than we already have, but... we're really in trouble here now, Smeadon."

Smeadon nodded. "Come, let us discuss what we each might offer." The magistrate's face had retained its calm composure, but he couldn't hide the light in his eyes at the thought of Atlantis, desperate and at his mercy.

Three long, excruciating hours later, (hours which Sheppard and Ford had intentionally made as difficult as possible, attempting to learn exactly what Manara could and could not spare, alternatively offering various things they had no intention of trading and demanding amounts of supplies greatly in excess of what Manara could possibly offer or what they needed in order to draw out Smeadon's hand), they agreed to part company until the morning.

"Major, please take advantage of the suites here in the governmental complex to rest. We will conclude our negotiations in the morning."

Sheppard's expression was subdued and grateful. "Thank you sir." As the Manarians left him and Ford alone, he turned to his subordinate. Now his smile was positive wolfish. "Sooner than he thinks."

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

The radio next to Smeadon's bed was one set to a very exact frequency, one that was to be used only in the most severe of crises. There were various other methods by which the Magistrate could be reached in such times, but the radio was intended only for the most desperate and immediately pressing - ostensibly, the only concern that could justify its use was a Wraith culling.

The radio practically screamed, static hissing and buzzing as it cackled in Smeadon's ear, yanking the man from sleep. He grabbed it. "Report! What's going on!"

The only reply he received was further static, the buzzing alternatively cackling in a quick staccato that mimicked Atlantian weapons fire and quiet silence of fallen personnel. Smeadon grabbed his robes, garbing himself quickly and belting them securely before grabbing his own weapon. He burst out into the corridor and across the hall, into the building's primary security section. "What's going on!"

The men in the room glanced at each other in confusion. One had been leaning back in his chair, legs up on the desk in front of the monitors, and he hastened to get himself into more proper form. "Sir?" One of the others asked. "We've had no reports, sir," he said, confused.

One of the monitors on the screen flickered out, buzzing into static that mirrored that of the radio that Smeadon still held in his hand. "What's going on!" Smeadon demanded.

The one man turned to the second man, the one whose feet had been up on the table. "With me," he ordered, hoisting his antiquated handgun and checking the clip. Both of them left into the corridor, their radios connected to Smeadon's.

"There doesn't appear to be any immediate threat on this floor," the radio spoke, the voices blurred as they broadcast. "We're moving to the second floor." There was a metal clanking sound as the two men moved into a stairwell and their feet pounded as they moved quickly down the stairs to the second floor. There were three floors in this building, which was one of the primary buildings in the small Menaran government complex. Most of the structures were for inventory, agriculture, and trade, but two were for purely governmental administrative purposes, and one of those was the Magistrate's complex, a three story residential building in the heart of the government complex.

"Checking out second floor," the radio said. Then it was silent, save for the much more subdued static than the radio had been screaming out earlier. "This is odd," the radio started again, the voice much quieter this time, and Smeadon heard quick movement as the two men moved from place to place. "This door appears to have been unlatched some time after evening check," the radio whispered.

There was a loud slam that sent the radio into apoplexy, then there was a clear gunshot and a thud that was probably a fist hitting a face. "Corporal? Corporal, report!" the third security man said anxiously into his radio, but all that came back was further static. The guard might have been lackadaisical about the performance of his duties - they had hardly seemed necessary, before tonight - but he was a trained professional. He grabbed Smeadon's arm and dragged the older man across the hall back into the bedroom, quickly sliding a wooden panel out of a dresser that decorated one of the walls. Behind it was a control panel and he punched in a code and on the interior of the dresser a wooden panel slid out and a reinforced metal door opened. The guard threw Smeadon into the darkened room and, still facing the door to the bedroom as if anticipating yet another threat, he cocked his gun. "We can broadcast an alert from in here, sir, and we'll be far more secure."

"You'd think so," a familiar voice murmured behind him, several paces back. At that distance, the guard couldn't judge how close the intruder was and, in the dark, probably wouldn't be able to stop him from killing the Magistrate if he intended to do so, but he knew his duty and he threw himself around, gun tracking in the darkness.

A red bolt darted out of the shadows, striking the man and tossing him backwards and down to the ground. "Stun weapons," the voice said conversationally, and Smeadon's heart sank as his panic gave way to recognition, the familiarity of the voice echoing in his memory and he knew who the voice belonged to.

_"Yes sir. We've got lots of ships and weapons we can... help with." _Smeadon stared upwards, dismayed, into the eyes of Lieutenant Aiden Ford as the young officer moved into the light that still streamed into the panic room from the open door to the bedroom. Ford smiled at him coldly, then raised his MP5. Another bolt of red light, like the one that had casually struck down his guard, struck Smeadon and the Magistrate fell to his knees, vision swaying.

In his last moments of consciousness, he heard Ford talk into his own radio. "I have him," he said.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

When Smeadon finally regained consciousness, he realized he hadn't moved very far. He had no, in fact, moved more than 20 feet from where he'd been struck down, and he wasn't tied or subdued in any way. He sat up, blinking to recover his vision, and froze as he recognized Major Sheppard calmly leaning on a rail, background twinkling with starlight, across from him. The Atlanteans had taken him out to his bedroom's balcony.

Ford was there, as was Teyla. Smeadon couldn't have known, but the Athosian woman had been the key to his current predicament. She, as it turned out, had traded with the Manarians before and knew many people on this planet, including one in particular who had come quite in handy - the man who was responsible for the architecture of the Magistrates' residence. The Athosians had used the man's unique skillset in the past during some of their own more considerable construction projects on Athos, and he had been friends with her father - and he'd owed her a favor.

Not that she would have needed that favor to acquire the plans for the building. Smeadon had held on to power over them for quite some time, longer than any of their previous leaders, due to his ability to manipulate and obfuscate. Many of his people had grown somewhat disaffected with his rule and Teyla's friend had only been more than happy to help.

"Here's the deal," Sheppard started, staring down at Smeadon's prone body. "We've just come to an agreement, you an I, on a final trade that will conclude our trade relationship. After this last trade, we will no longer trade with the Manarians - and we will, I'm afraid, tell as many people as Teyla knows about your unfortunate habit of allowing guests to be kidnapped, tortured, and killed." Sheppard smiled coldly. "We're taking as much food as you can spare. Everything. We're not going to take so much as to handicap your people, but don't think you'll be living in luxury for much longer."

Smeadon grimaced. "You said trade. This sounds like extortion."

"You are responsible for the deaths of three people under my protection. We'll take the food we need, end our relationship, and call it even." Sheppard's eyes glowed menacingly. "At least I'm not Kolya. He didn't _like _even."

Smeadon shook his head. "You'll never get out of here. There are only three of you and there are hundreds of guards in the administrative complex. Even if you could, you'll never be able to move all that food without my help and I'm not going to help you."

"Maybe," Sheppard admitted. "But there's still another card in play that you haven't seen yet." Sheppard raised his hand to his ear. "Bates?"

Less than five feet from the edge of the balcony, Smeadon's vision shimmered, the stars that blanketed the sky vanishing as an oval-shaped vessel appeared interposed itself between Smeadon and the sky. The Ancient space ship, now designated Jumper 1, tiled downwards, the two men at her controls calmly maintaining her location. As Smeadon watched, the ship's weapons ports opened, glowing with barely restrained energy.

"Besides, I don't think you'll be in much of a position to dictate," Sheppard commented. "After all, when we tell the rest of your people that you betrayed people under your protection to their enemy for a purely personal gain, I don't think they'll be too happy. Do you?"

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

When the Jumpers returned, laden will supplies and an excessively smug Major Sheppard who insisted on briefing her on their exploits himself, Weir had to hold back a sigh. "Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?"

"I do."

"You do?"

"Yes, Doctor. I do."

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get into for this?"

Sheppard smiled. "None."

"And how's that?"

"Because, Elizabeth, my report is going to say, simply, that negotiations were conducted and concluded and that both sides mutually agreed to end their partnership. And that's all."

Elizabeth Weir did sigh, then, rubbing her temple as a headache began to form. But, she admitted, it wasn't exactly a lie (and it might even have been the truth), and neither was it exactly an omission (thought it wasn't the whole truth).

Unwillingly, she found herself smiling back, even as she slouched down, leaning on the hand she had rubbed her temple with. "You, Major Sheppard, are trouble."

He grinned.


	11. Tempest in a Teacup: Vanishing Act

Author's Note: My sincerest apologies about the obscenely long wait. A number of things came up in the last while that negated whatever free time I did have to write. They are now gone and I am vigorously reviewing the next few episodes of the first season again to make sure I know where I'm going with this. I've got a plan for the next few - I've been building up to a particular episode that we're just a few installments away from.

This installment is a little bit different from the others. Whether it's a good different or a bad different I haven't decided, but I'll be reverting back to character development now.

**Tempest in a Teacup, Part 3 of 3: Vanishing Act**

"_Where _are we going again?" Frustration with his more science-oriented teammate was not something unknown to Aiden Ford. Indeed, confusion about what McKay was talking about was the standard, not an uncommon occurrence.

Why it was always _him _that got roped into escorting the maniac around on his typical mad scientist quests, though... that was the question. _Damn the Major, foisting him off on me again. _

The storm that had struck Atlantis in the days prior to his and McKay's romping through the lower, largely unexplored levels of Atlantis had flooded huge areas of the city, many which had never been fully explored. With only a team of a few hundred, and a city which was large enough to support a population of many thousands, exploring the entirety of the city had been out of the question.

And unnecessary, it had seemed. But with the flooding damage, McKay had been convinced it was necessary to view a number of the areas that had not yet been explored and fully mapped. Of course, he needed an escort, and of course, Ford drew the duty. As usual.

"We're going down."

"Down?"

"Are you having problems with your hearing?"

Ford gritted his teeth, lovingly cradling his P90 to his chest and, for just a second, let himself fantasize about shooting his colleague.

"Here we are!" McKay exclaimed. "This is the area that Dumais said had been flooded and we haven't gotten around to exploring at all." McKay paused, glancing down the hall. The length of corridor they stood in was still sloshing around about their boots, two inches of water still sitting relatively still on the abandoned floor. Empty shelves and storage lockers littered the sides of the walls. "You first," McKay muttered, staring down into the darkness that was ahead of them.

Ford, again gritting his teeth, shook his head in disdain and stepped into the room off the corridor. He snapped his flashlight up and around, a second beam lancing out from McKay's hand to illuminate the darkness. There was less water here - maybe a quarter of an inch - and Ford noted a number of dead light emplacements and still more shelves. "Look at all this equipment!" McKay exclaimed, all fear of the unknown gone from him at the sight of abandoned Ancient technology. "Most of it I've seen before, of course, but... this is amazing!"

Ford slowly turned, taking in the entire room slowly. He frowned slightly. This was, it seemed, entirely a storage area for old and discarded equipment. Relaxing slightly, he sighed, noting a second door through to another room. He poked his head through, flashing the light around... and stopped suddenly.

McKay came up behind him. "Yes, I know that! No, I haven't seen another of those Ancient personal shields. I'm _always _looking... Zelenka, you're even more annoying than I..." McKay stopped suddenly, his hand falling limp at his side. "Oh..." McKay's eyes were wide as he saw what had stopped Ford short."

_"Rodney?" _Ford could hear through the headphone that was lying limply on McKay's shoulder. _"Rodney, are you all right?" _

"Yes. I am without a doubt all right. In fact, I dare say I've never in my life been better than I am at _this moment,_" McKay replied, his eyes still locked on the center of the next room. "We just found an Ancient control chair."

_"You what?"_

"We found a control chair."

Zelenka was uncharacteristically speechless for several seconds, before he started babbling on about the significance of the discovery. McKay knew all that of course - the absence of a control chair in Atlantis had long been speculated on by the science crews. One theory had been it had been taken with the Atlantians when they left, to ensure that the city's still potent defense system couldn't be abused. Others had postulated that the chair was somewhere in the city - although why it wouldn't have been in the control room, nobody could explain.

McKay, mind running rampant with the possibilities of having a control chair with which they could run Atlantis' defense systems - assuming they found a ZedPM to power it with - started walking fowards slowly, his hand outstretched slightly, afraid to move, afraid even to breathe for fear that his new toy would disappear.

"Wait!" Ford exclaimed. He grabbed McKay's shoulder. "We can't go barreling in there without making sure it's safe first!"

McKay scoffed at him, indignant at having his musings interrupted. "We'll be fine." He stepped through the doorway, his flashlight still trained on the chair, Ford following half a step behind. The military man's flashlight swept the room, searching for any potential threats he could foresee, but nothing stood out. McKay knelt down next to the chair, tapping the place were a ZedPM should be - but the slot where it would go was empty. "No ZedPM," he commented into his mic, ostensibly talking to Zelenka. "No power." He sighed.

Ford let out a tense breath, forcing himself to relax. There didn't seem to be any immediate dangers...

There was a flash of green light behind him and Ford spun around. The chair was where it had been an instant before, but... McKay wasn't. He cocked his head, tension churning in his gut. "McKay? Come on, this isn't funny."

He took a step forwards towards the chair and there was a second flash of green light, and suddenly he wasn't there anymore either.

Back in the control room, a perplexed Radek Zelenka stared at his computer. "Rodney? Rodney, are you there?"

_-Stargate Atlåntis- _

"How long has it been since we lost contact with Ford and McKay?" Major John Sheppard was leaning forwards over the conference table, his face a picture of concern, brow furrowed. Across from him, Zelenka shrugged helplessly.

"It's been almost an hour since we lost contact. They just..." Zelenka waved his hand helplessly, words failing him.

Sheppard turned to Weir. "I'm taking a team down there."

"No you're not, Major, not until we know more about what happened. The last thing we need is for you to go missing too." Aside Weir, Teyla nodded her assent. The last person at the table, Sergeant Bates, just frowned. Weir addressed Zelenka. "Doctor, I understand that just before they went missing, they reported finding an Ancient control chair?"

Zelenka nodded haphazardly. "Ah... yes. We'd been wondering where the chair was - we knew there had to be one somewhere."

Sheppard huffed, his frustration evident. "Could that be related to the disappearance of Ford and McKay?"

"It's possible. It's impossible to say for sure without exploring more of the room in question, although Rodney did report that the chair was inactive at the time of discovery. There was no ZPM, so I can't say for sure whether or not it was some kind of defense mechanism for the chair or what could have occurred, but-"

Sheppard cut him off. "All right. I'm going to take a team down there and do a little reconnaissance."

Weir eyed him sideways, obviously pondering the pros and cons of objecting to his proposal. Finally, she relented. "Who's the second foremost expert on Ancient technology here on Atlantis?" she asked.

"Well..."

"What Doctor Zelenka is trying to say, Doctor Weir, is that he is the person you're looking for," Teyla interjected.

"Doctor Pederson is very good as well," Zelenka commented. "And Grodin is highly skilled when it comes to-"

"We'll take Zelenka and Pederson," Sheppard interrupted. "Bates, you stay here. Teyla, you're with me." Sheppard nodded at Zelenka. "Go get suited up, Doctor."

"We'll have Peter coordinate the efforts from the control room," Weir agreed. "Very well. Let's go find out what happened to our people and bring them back."

Sheppard was already out the door.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

"Are you sure I'm the best one for this?" Doctor Pederson stuttered as he slowly velcroed his oversized BDU into place. "I mean, Dumais knows Ancient computer systems even better than I do, and Kavanagh is the best person on Atlantis for determining potential dangers to-"

"His own safety," Sheppard supplied. He snapped a round into his P90 and slung it over a shoulder, the weapon falling limp at his side. "You're coming, Pederson. Let's move."

Zelenka shook his head in consternation at Pederson. "That's not what you said the other day."

"This isn't a job for a scientist! This is a job for the military! They're the ones who are supposed to go into the dangerous situations and figure out how to save everyone! We're supposed to stay in our labs and figure out how to help them, not go _with _them!"

"Today, the best way you can help us is to come with us," Sheppard replied. "Let's _go!_" Shaking his head, he slammed open the door to the locker room and stormed out. Zelenka followed with only slight hesitation.

Pederson stood shock still until Sheppard stuck his head back into the room. "Now!"

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

"Are you _sure _we're going in the right direction?"

_"I'm sure, Major. Continue down that corridor. There will be a door on your right that will lead to a room that Lieutenant Ford described as a storage room. Through that room will be a second room. The chair will be located there." _Grodin's steady voice was reassuring to the still shaky Pederson, while Zelenka curiously examined everything they came across in search of a control panel.

Sheppard just tromped through the inches of water at his feet, sending little waves out in every direction as he hurried onwards. At the rear, Teyla switched from sending concerned glances in Sheppard's direction to sending threatening glances in Pederson's direction.

Pederson was trudging slowly through the waves, small steps whenever possible and disgruntled glances between what he evidently saw as his two oppressors, Sheppard and Teyla. He saved a few glances for the clueless Zelenka, a colleague who had, in his mind, offered him up for the slaughter. Every few minutes Teyla found herself nudging the reluctant scientist, forcing him forwards. Her attempts at reassurance had gone unacknowledged.

It was a sharp contrast between Pederson and Sheppard. Sheppard was as determined as she could ever remember seeing him. The sudden unexpected disappearance of half his team had sent him into a state of semi-panic and determination. He'd run roughshod over anyone who had attempted to prevent him from going after his friends.

_"You've reached the storage room, Major."_

"Yeah, I got it," Sheppard replied. He took only a second before stepping into the room. It was much as it had been described - the water level fell slightly, the many old storage cases and empty supply boxes that the Atlanteans had left behind littering the floors as well as the shelves the decorated the walls. "It was next room, right?" Sheppard asked, his flashlight pointed at the adjacent door.

"I wouldn't go in there yet," Zelenka murmured. "That's where Rodney and Lieutenant Ford disappeared."

"Let us find out what happened to them," Teyla commented. "We need to search for anything that might give us a clue as to what occurred here.

Surprisingly, it was Pederson who supplied the first piece of useful information. Once he had come to the conclusion that this room, at least, was safe, he returned to a state of semi-coherance and started using his admittedly brilliant mind. "There's still power flowing through this room," he murmured.

Zelenka's head turned around, his a look of consternation. "There's no power here," he returned.

"Yes there is." Pederson pushed a box off of one of the shelves against the wall adjacent to the control chair room. With the space he now how to access the wall, he started prying off a large segment, a rectangular piece of covering. Sheppard handed his P90 to Teyla. Pushing several more crates violently to the side, he helped Pederson pry the panel free.

Pederson immediately grabbed his flashlight and used it to illuminate the exposed wall. Behind the panel was a collection of piping, wiring, and electrical cables. He pointed his flashlight at one particularly thick collection of wiring. "That's an active power line," he said.

Zelenka, now leaning in over his shoulder, nodded agreement. "It appears to be." He turned slightly to Pederson. "How'd you know there was still power here?"

"That particular wall panel is identical to ones we have in the rooms adjacent to the control room. Behind all of them is a similar setup of power lines," Pederson said. "Unlike the rest of the station, this room is shielded against power flowing through the station's corridors."

"So it was of similar importance to the control room?" Teyla asked.

"Makes sense, there is a control chair in there," Sheppard pointed out. He gestured to the now exposed power conduit. "So what's this thing powering?"

Pederson shook his head. "I don't know."

Sheppard turned to Zelenka. "Can we go in that room? Ford and McKay were both inside near the chair before they disappeared."

Zelenka shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

On the intercom, Grodin piped up. _"We've tracked that power line, but we're not sure exactly where it's getting its power from. Dumais and Gaul are working on tracking it down."_

"Great," Sheppard sighed. "Let's do it."

Teyla handed Sheppard back his P90 before glancing into the control chair room. Nodding at Sheppard, she shouldered her way through the open doorway, water splashing at her feet.

Once inside, she straightened and turned back to face Sheppard, who was just emerging into the room. "It appears that our caution was unwarrant-"

Teyla disappeared in a bright green flash.

Startled, Sheppard froze for just an instant, then threw himself out of the room and back to the relative safety of the storage room. Tripping, he fell and slammed his jaw into the floor, Zelenka immediately falling to his side to pull him into the room while Pederson cowered in a far corner.

Ignoring Grodin's frantic commentary in his ear, Sheppard struggled to his feet, one hand automatically going to his damaged jaw. "What happened?" he said before grimacing and bracing his jaw with his hand.

"I don't know," Zelenka replied, his eyes wide.

"I'm getting _really sick _of that answer!" Sheppard spat. He flipped his radio. "Grodin, we've lost Teyla. She vanished like the others when she went into the room."

It was Weir on the far end of the radio. _"Are you all right, John?" _

"Not really," Sheppard muttered. Glancing around the room, he rolled his eyes. "Pederson, get your ass moving and start trying to figure this out!"

_"John?"_

"Not now Elizabeth!" Sheppard's hand clenched around his P90. Now _three _members of his team were missing. He shied away from adding "presumed lost" to his description of their current condition. They'd disappeared, that was all. They'd get them back.

"Maybe they triggered some kind of security system," Zelenka mused, having already regained his composure. "It just... prevents people from getting close to the control chair unless they follow the proper procedure."

"Yeah, well that prevention has cost me three members of my team!" Sheppard, seemingly remembering his current situation and that he wasn't going to be able to shoot his way out of this one, took a deep breath and let it out. "Okay. Okay. Does anyone have an idea as to what the 'proper procedure' for approaching that damned chair would be?"

Zelenka shrugged helplessly.

Surprisingly, it was Pederson who was the first to speak. Having decided that Teyla's disappearance proved that it was the adjacent room, and not this storage room, that was dangerous, his intellectual calm had returned to him. "McKay said that the control chair was inactive, right?"

Zelenka nodded. _"That's right," _Grodin supplied helpfully through the radio.

"When they went in there, they triggered the security system to activate, but it's obviously not linked to the chair itself..." Pederson gestured at the still-exposed power conduit he'd discovered earlier. "That power must be going to the security system." He shrugged. "What if we cut the power? That should deactivate the security system."

_"Wouldn't there be other precautions in place to prevent that?" _Grodin asked.

"Not necessarily," Zelenka murmured. "Not necessarily. With all the power in Atlantis diverted away from this part of the city _except _that power cable, chances are the security system itself is all that's active." He glanced up to Sheppard. "There is a problem, though."

"Such as?"

"Well, there are three possibilities for what happened to Rodney and the others. First, it transported them somewhere else on Atlantis, like the transporters here on the city or the Asgard personal trasporter."

_"That makes sense, Doctor. What are the other possibilities?" _Weir asked.

"Well... one is that they're simply... gone," Zelenka admitted. "If they're gone, then shutting down the system would be the obvious course of action and solve all our immediate problems."

"They're not gone," Sheppard said flatly.

"I don't think they are either," Zelenka replied slowly. He shrugged. "My best guess is that this security system acts like the Wraith transport fields on their darts. They've been..." Zelenka paused as he searched for the right word... "put into electronic stasis _in _the security system. They're being stored as data in the computer. If we shut it down..."

"We might lose the data." Pederson finished. "They really would be gone."

"So we need to access the security system itself and convince it to release them before we shut it down."

"But the system is in the room with the control chair..."

"And we can't get in there."

Zelenka nodded. "It's quite a problem."

Sheppard sighed heavily. "Well, I was in there and it didn't snatch me away," he pointed out.

Zelenka frowned. "And it didn't take Ford at the same time it took McKay."

_"Maybe it can only take one person at a time. Maybe it's damaged after all this time, or doesn't have enough power," _Grodin suggested.

"Okay... How long do you think you'd need to get that security system to release McKay, Ford, and Teyla?" Sheppard asked Zelenka.

Zelenka shrugged helplessly. "It's impossible to say, really."

_"I have an idea," _Grodin said over the radio. _"When Atlantis was fully operational, the security system was probably connected to Atlantis' central computer, right? They'd have control over it from the control room."_

"Probably," Zelenka replied. "But with all the damage to the city, there's no way for us to be certain, and since I've never seen this system in any of the diagnostics I've run from the control room, it's almost certainly been cut off from the control room."

_"But maybe we can hook it back into the Atlantis central computer," _Grodin continued. _"If we gave you an Atlantis compatible information cable and a laptop, we might be able to get the security system onto our wireless network. We'd jury-rig a replacement connection to temporarily return control of the system to the control room."_

"But we'd still have to get inside," Pederson pointed out. "We'd have to hook the security system directly into the wireless system and that could only be done from the computer system itself."

"I'll do it," Sheppard noted. "I'd... vanish... like the others, but if I had enough time I could hook it all up."

"No offense, Major," Zelenka replied, cutting off Weir's immediate negative response, "but you don't have enough experience with Ancient computer technology to create an interface between it and our technology quickly enough. You'd vanish long before you got it set up." He paused. "I'll do it."

_"I'll bring the equipment down," _Grodin commented over a rustle of papers and equipment.

"I'm going in with you," Sheppard said. "We know it can only take one person at a time..."

"We _think _it can only take one person at a time," interjected Pederson.

"So I'll go in first and make a nuisance of myself. It'll take me and that should give you enough time to finish the job."

_"Am I the only person who recognizes that we have no way of knowing if our people really are in the security computer and aren't just... gone?" _Weir said quietly.

Sheppad glanced at Zelenka, who nodded at him. "We're willing to take that risk, Doctor."

_"I'm not sure I'm willing to let you take that risk, Major."_

"Elizabeth... we're doing this."

There was a long pause on the other end of the radio. _"You better not get yourselves killed, John."_

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

Grodin knelt next to the laptop, the extended and modified information cable plugged into its right side. At the far end was a plug which would _never _be seen in commercial use on Earth - it had been modified designed by Samantha Carter some years before to interface Earth technology with Ancient technology. He also brought along a large device, a transmitter/receiver of sorts intended to keep the laptop in contact with their jury-rigged computer system. "I'm ready," he said.

"As am I," Zelenka commented.

Pederson just stood silently, then he nodded and leaned over the laptop. "I'll monitor your progress."

Sheppard turned to him, frowning. "I thought Grodin was doing that."

"I'm coming with you," Grodin said. "One person might not give Radek enough time. We can be sure with two."

Sheppard nodded. "All right. Are we ready?"

Zelenka took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Follow my lead," Sheppard ordered, then he stepped into the control chair room. Moving quickly, he stepped in a large circle towards the chair, subtly approaching it while maintaining his distance. Grodin stepped in after him, turning around quickly and scanning the room with his eyes for the security system terminal.

Zelenka made a beeline for the side wall, the one adjacent to the storage room and roughly opposite from the power cable Pederson had discovered . Sure enough, on the side wall there was a control panel the likes of which he'd never seen before. In his hand he held the long cable that connected to the laptop Pederson was watching, the Ancient adapter on the end. With his flashlight he scanned the console for the appropriate computer jack.

There was a flash of green light behind him, behind Grodin who was standing behind him. Neither of them turned to check on Sheppard's presence, both sure that he was now gone.

His eyes also scanning the console, Grodin gasped. "There!"

Zelenka reached forward, stabbing the cable into the appropriate slot. "Pederson, do you have access to the security system?" he called, turning around.

Grodin wasn't there.

"I'm connecting the security system to the control room now!" Pederson called back. There wasn't a reply. Pederson, finishing the system refresh that now showed the security system as under the control of the Atlantis central control room, grinned in relief. "Radek?" He stood and moved to the door. Zelenka wasn't inside.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

"Doctor Pederson, what happened?" Doctor Elizabeth Weir spoke somberly into her radio. "Doctor Pederson?"

_"They're all gone," _the reply came back.

Weir closed her eyes. _God, I hope I didn't just kill those men. _"Chuck?"

The Canadian technician who had taken Grodin's place at the operations console grinned at her. "I've got control! There appear to be several different settings..." Chuck's eyes widened. "One is lethal," he whispered.

"Was it on lethal?"

Chuck suddenly released a huge breath of air. "No. No, thank God. Radek was right. Hold on." He pressed a few buttons on his control console.

_"This is amazing! I can't believe we found... wait, where did you come from?" _the welcome voice of Rodney McKay echoed through the radio. _"Grodin? Zelenka? Sheppard? What's going on here?"_

Weir slumped into her chair. "I'm glad you're okay, Rodney."

_"What's that supposed to mean? Of course I'm okay. I've never been better, in fact. But that still doesn't answer where everyone came from!"_

_"You are an idiot," _came Ford's voice. _"Complete numbskull." _

_"I was going to say dingbat," _added Sheppard_._

_"What's a dingbat?"_

Weir laughed, the last of her tension draining away.

_-Stargate Atlåntis-_

"I'm actually quite amazed," Rodney McKay said, sitting in the conference room chair across from the rest of Sheppard's team, Grodin, Zelenka, and Pederson.

"You would be," Zelenka muttered.

"Not only did you guys manage to figure out what had happened to us, but you manage to figure out how to fix it, all without my help."

Sheppard shook his head. "No thank you?"

"Beyond his comprehension," said Zelenka.

"I'm just glad everyone is all right," Weir noted. "Good job, everyone. Although I hope to never take such drastic risks again."

"It's all his fault," said Ford, brow furrowed at McKay.

"I agree," added Zelenka.

"It's always his fault," Sheppard put in.

Weir stopped him on the way out, her hand on his arm. "I'm never letting you do that again."

"Do what, Doctor?"

"Throw yourself into a situation where there is a huge chance you are sacrificing your own life and the lives of other good people on the off chance it might, maybe, save other lives."

"They volunteered."

Weir locked her eyes on his. "Never again, John."

All she could do after he'd gone was sigh. With three members of his team missing, he was going to do whatever it took to bring them back. Lecturing him on it would achieve nothing. Grodin and Zelenka's willingness to throw themselves into the fire to help him was surprising, but not incredibly so.

Eventually, John's willingness to disregard his own life - to throw himself under the bus in what he considered necessary attempts to save or protect the lives of others - would get himself and maybe others killed.

Weir sighed. She had to find a way to head that off.

At least they all came back this time. There really wasn't anything more she could ask.


End file.
